sigh* a day later, when Saturday's mad pile of work was a memory, it literally tasted like water. Now, how did that happen?
Mists waft with curious fragrance' odd detail Upon the creamy surface of those scents' Brown claim of coffee in my mug, to fence Thin hope with old chagrin as morning's pale Light watches from its cloudy vantage' scale Of truth, where ghostly layers shift oer pretense And grey asks white to call it blue from thence, My breakfast: ***** dishes 'hind th'exhale. It's nat'nal cereal day, so in a poor Excuse I added Malt-O-Meal to do The favours with our wonted pancakes, fer A whopping stack of edibles. Yes, two Eggs, bacon, and a touch of fruit. If you're Still hungry, there's no coffee. I love you.
Don't give me lectures regarding old coffee as it's long been a favourite of mine over steamy fresh. Yes, another old piece of work, to boot.