POETRY
Toast
When someone burns toast in the morning I swear
I can practically hear her slippers
shuffling down the hall:
the gold ones with the funny pointed toes
like she was the Genie of Breakfast,
up early scorching English muffins and brewing
French Market coffee so strong it could make its own bacon
The smell drove my Dad crazy
but it was the shuffling that got to me
since usually it meant she was on her way to scold me
Oh child fool that was me!
If only you’d known then
how much you’d miss it now
Taking a break from The Daily Epic to share some other recent things. Smells evoke memories! Thank you for reading
