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todd-william-fritzPoems
Waiting A boiled egg A cold piece of toast Butter spread dry An empty spot At the table Wanting Coffee No steam Trails from the rim The cup sits Nearby Black Froth long Gone Stares Out the window The trees bare The frost thick On the lawn Cut one last time before Winter Alone Waiting to start Her day She sits Silent Anxious Rising She smiles And calls as I start Down the Stairs “A cooked boiled egg!” “A cold piece of toast!” “My own fault, sorry!” I say “Dawdling today, Love.” And “Thanks”
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Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 7:59 PM UTC
Cold Toast
Waiting A boiled egg A cold piece of toast Butter spread dry An empty spot At the table Wanting Coffee No steam Trails from the rim The cup sits Nearby Black Froth long Gone Stares Out the window The trees bare The frost thick On the lawn Cut one last time before Winter Alone Waiting to start Her day She sits Silent Anxious Rising She smiles And calls as I start Down the Stairs “A cooked boiled egg!” “A cold piece of toast!” “My own fault, sorry!” I say “Dawdling today, Love.” And “Thanks”
Kalamazoo, MI 2012115
Written by
todd-william-fritz
American
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 7:59 PM UTC
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