I sit at the high island table beside the ferns & that one
Cacti you named Carlos
Adoring the morning
Sunlight
In your eyes-
I’m lost in the way you cook eggs
Sunnyside but you almost always mess up
Somewhere between the process of flipping it & {looking}
{Like a lovelier Rosie R.}
Later deciding it was
Scrambled you were making all along
Perhaps
I’m in love with way you can’t whistle
But attempt to anyways
Nonchalantly-
As if nothing happened-
As if my heart weren’t those-
*Eggs