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Sep 2017
sigh* a day later, when Saturday's mad pile of work was a memory, it literally tasted like water.  Now, how did that happen?  

(sonnet #MMMMDCXLIV)

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.
Jenny Gordon
Written by
Jenny Gordon  44/F/Elgin, IL
(44/F/Elgin, IL)   
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