One day I heard her say:
“I have a dreamy kitchen.”
I pictured pots and pans hanging above
an old-fashioned stove, a light blue and white checkered
tablecloth on a wooden table for two.
And the morning frost beyond the kitchen door,
not reaching the warmth of her ears
from the night’s sleep.
I wondered:
What does she have for breakfast?
Does she make herself two sunny side-up eggs?
Is she too busy for eggs?
Perhaps she only eats yogurt before darting out the door.
You were always darting, not quite rushing,
but too fast for me to say hello.
Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 5:55 PM UTC
One day I heard her say:
“I have a dreamy kitchen.”
I pictured pots and pans hanging above
an old-fashioned stove, a light blue and white checkered
tablecloth on a wooden table for two.
And the morning frost beyond the kitchen door,
not reaching the warmth of her ears
from the night’s sleep.
I wondered:
What does she have for breakfast?
Does she make herself two sunny side-up eggs?
Is she too busy for eggs?
Perhaps she only eats yogurt before darting out the door.
You were always darting, not quite rushing,
but too fast for me to say hello.
