$CLOUT Poetry - Fatty Spits
A poem about waking up early being oddly excited for breakfast.
Cocooned within the warmth of rest
Rousing belly, beating chest
Anticipation kneads the bread
My base to which the butter’s spread
Eyes grow wide as bacon hits
The pan is searing, fatty spits
The salty wave of juicy chew
Has set my very soul askew
The crack of shell, a falling treasure
Bathes in fat for my own pleasure
Watching on as not to burn
The kettle pops to coffee’s churn
Slice through the rich with slurps of zing
And grapefruit plump with juicy grin
The time has come to orchestrate
And present my music to my plate
Clashing smells would warm and swarm
To salivate this early storm
Too early still to warm the hob
So I lay still with clenching gob
For a long-awaited feast of few
That beckons me with morning dew.
© Rambling Rose, 2021. All rights reserved.
🌹 Thanks for reading. I ramble on while the world goes crazy. Come pull up a seat and watch with me.
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