I went into the kitchen the other day.
The salt and pepper shakers
were quarreling on the table.
The dish and the bowl
made a ruckus in the cupboard.
The bacon and the eggs
wrestled madly in the pan.
The toast leaped from the toaster,
crying, "You've burnt me again!"
I should have stayed in bed that day,
for no good will come from a breakfast of chaos.