A little egg begins to roll
Her light yellow body jiggles above pink cushions
Like a volcano, her form is on the verge of eruption
Our poor little egg closes her eyes and realizes a sense of primal futility
Molten tears burn her plump cheeks as they fall
They burn with frustration’s poisonous touch

Outside, the sky hums its smooth, silky night
In stark contrast, of course, to our poor little egg

Her screams seize attention and demand nourishment,
be it edible or otherwise
Her feathery hair, shining blackish brown, is nowhere near as lengthy as it is now
Her tiny little feet have grown to a size 8 and a half but are still adorable to me
Her ocular chocolates, orbs of pure warmth, look straight into the camera with matured defiance

A look my girlfriend hypnotizes me with even today