Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
lex Dec 2020
slow mornings are my favorite
for i can simply stare out the window,
drink coffee,
and think.

whether it be cloudy or sunny,
it's always nice to bask in the low light.
the sun streams through the window with an orange glow and i wish nothing but to stand in it forever
Caage Gaber Dec 2020
Bitter tasting sip
Or a sweet and creamy glaze.
Black cup or cool whip?
I'm not a big fan of dark coffee. I'm the kind of person who has coffee with his sugar
Zadkiel Nov 2020
Right now it is currently lunch time
Though how could it be lunch at 12:20 pm?
Well listen here brother
There are more than a thousand breakfasts
That could be missed
But you must never forget
The middle
Unless it is a brother

For Lunch is in between Breakfast and Dinner
Proving everyone wrong
Is what I would like to say
But alas there is a fault in this reasoning
For Lunch is only important
For the fact that you get to hang out
With the

B O I S

now you must accept this flawless foolish reasoning
and turn yourself into foolish wise men
since we are but the
Gaia's Children
Nik Bland Sep 2020
Your voice was never mine in morning
You were a bird of later light
And you would smile
Each day
Each day
To say that you’re alright

You needed your coffee
To satiate your internal plight
As hungriness
Would sway
Would sway
Your mood ‘till your first bite

The crunch of butter covered toast
Your taste of the egg whites
You chose the yolks
To stay
To stay
Your breakfast at its height

You’d smile and say good morning
And there you were, my perfect wife
We’d go outside
Parkways
Beach days
Or an afternoon hike

It’s been a month and you’ve gone now
I dream of you at night
I think of you
Always
Always
As tears I consistently fight

I sleep inside our bedroom
I still whisper to you “Sleep tight”
You went in your sleep
No pain
No pain
After fighting with all your might

Your voice was never mine in morning
But you were my sun, so bright
And I find I miss
Your grace
Your face
Amidst the morning light
Thomas W Case Aug 2020
My daughter talks to
her blueberries like
they're her friends.
My soul smiles
and I never want
it to end.
my daughter eating breakfast, she's two and a half.
romy Jul 2020
crimson roses for breakfast
glass of wine adorned with thorns
stems wrangled around my figure
scaled petals as my skin
Ashley Kaye Jul 2020
Breakfast for two is true
communion.

Twin mugs full plates
the disshelved kitchen

My one yolk eyes me;
its sunny stare brightens
the awkward lack
of intimacy.

Sipping orange juice in lieu
of the morning after,
the passing closeness
a treasure all its own.
Ces Jul 2020
A sensation of bubbling excitement
washes over my body
emanating from this tightness
in my chest:
a feeling of gentle happiness
butterflies inside me...

A mood born from a good breakfast.
In the morning, alarm clocks ring,
Covers rustle, small birds sing;
But when I wake, I've slept too long-
And wake to find you already gone.
I pat the pillows sadly, wishing you were here,
Then arise more steadily with mounting fervent cheer;
For tonight you shall return to me-
Tonight, you will be near;
And I await your presence
My love, my precious dear.
Next page