Days like today call for second dinners
Because days like today missed the one in the morning

Seconds dinners substitute one for the other
You get sleep, but miss the one
You miss sleep, but get the other
Though you hardly ever get the one,
You can still hope to get the other,
Because one bowl filled with satin glazed rings is just as promising as those midnight stars outside your window.
They both help you sleep
and the thunder begins to settle.

I gather a lump of snow in my hand, compacting it into a small ball
You stand across from me, turned away and completely oblivious to the oncoming onslaught.
I pull my arm back, and launch the snowball at your back. It makes contact and you stumble forward slightly due to the impact.
You turn around and our eyes meet.
Then, we're suddenly laughing, clutching our sides in mirth.
You return the favor by throwing a clump of snow at my head while I'm doubled over. The snowball fight rages on.

We traipse back inside, exhausted from our icy battle. Our faces rosy and our arms aching, we collapse next to one another on the couch.
I grab a nearby blanket and wrap it around us, pulling us closer together. We bathe in the warmth of each other's body heat, and take comfort in one another's presence. I softly kiss your forehead and fall asleep in your arms.

I wake to the sound of sizzling, and the smell of sausages. You're in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. I sneak up behind you and surprise you by wrapping my arms around you and giving you a tight squeeze. You jump in shock, but quickly relax and continue cooking. I sit back down on the couch and savor the time we've spent together.

Scramble, ramble... breakfast
These are activities when I enjoy breakfast

Crunch, munch... lunch
These are sounds when I eat lunch

Simmer, stir... dinner
These are the things that occur when I cook dinner

But in the end
Food is food
So we are all a winner

A familiar scene is displayed before me.
A plate, piled high with an assortment of foods.
The smells, still filling my nostrils.
The bacon, crisp, and warm between my fingers.
The pancakes, drenched in hot syrup.
Scrambled eggs, with ketchup on top.
And me, seated before it all.
I pop a bacon strip into my mouth. Savor the crunchy taste.
I stab a pancake with a fork and eat it as well. The syrup is sweet.
The different flavors, each of them intertwining on my tongue.
My mouth is watering…I want more.
So I stand and take my plate with me to the stove.
Hash browns. Corned beef. And more.
Seconds, prepare to be devoured!

Glamour, health and politics,
are ideal morning topics
blending well with hot coffee,
and, these early risers...share openly
their impassioned accounts, simultaneously
seething, with a dark and strong bubbling sea,
making the most, out of a few hours of bonding,
breakfasting, after morning chi kung
(sometimes, with family, reuniting...)
they have moved with the times and days,
subscribing to both old and acceptable new ways...
anger and dislike are voiced gently
no despair hidden...i believe, not a tad of ennui,
.......surely...

these ladies have no fancy hats,
flowered, feathered, or with colored tats
no jewels crown their heads...........just
plain hair: black, brown, long or bobbed,
no pearls grace their necks.....or gloves
that are trimmed, to hide overworked
hands, or wrinkled knuckles......they're
past their golden years, prim and proper,
their own sets of rules are flames burning,
steam rising, like those of coffee brewing
deep in their minds...their values, churning,
their inner beauty, transcending...

their mornings are like a coffee maker,
brimming with bubbles and dark swirls,
tamed, paled in mugs, when cream is added in twirls...
complex issues considered taboo,
sometimes, even plain tattoos
are discussed in hushed tones
voices agree or disagree...until froth is gone
and bubbles have simmered down...

the hours are fleeting, time passes so swiftly
one has gone...but these enterprising ladies
excitedly plan ahead, for their next assembly...

Sally

Copyright November 2, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

A sea of buttery happiness
Is home to the roundest of islets
Side by side they wallow.

Quite naturally, the islands,
Are covered in ham.
Ham? Ham!
And lazily perched
On the hams highest point
Sits an avian sphere
Perfectly poached.

Straining against its
White little straight jacket.
Pop.

I woke up to go to work
To make my boss rich,
To make him make his boss rich,
To have the biggest boss making government rich,
To help the government train soldiers,
To have them fight with other soldiers,
To collect all the tears their families drop,
I thought, eating my breakfast.
Sipping my tea that I made,
From tears.