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Friday Morning Breakfast

August 14, 2015


An early morning cup of coffee
bitter, black, and poured fresh
from a steaming glass pot
held expertly by a pretty
waitress with a friendly smile

a bespectacled woman with a sort
of Louise Brooks haircut and dressed
in black blouse and pants nibbles
at her eggs, bacon and hash browns
while perusing a local magazine

a gray-haired man with grizzled
beard-covered cheeks and chin
adjusts his glasses as he scans the
headlines while eating from his plate
of pancakes, eggs, and sausage

The industrious clattering from
the kitchen enthusiastically gives
a rallying cry to my appetite and
anticipation of the breakfast that
will be spread before me

we all ready ourselves for the
Friday that lies before us—a
canvas resting on an easel of
possibilities as fresh, blank,
and pristine as yesterday’s was

we hope to paint our day with
activity, and effort enough to
welcome in the weekend
but how many of us will strive
to create a masterpiece?

  1. Rob permalink

    Testify brother.

    That’s shear poetry. Love it. It makes me want to create a masterpiece.

  2. That’s gratifying. Thank you, Rob.

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