Breakfast – (#SmallTales)

New-napkined tables, freshly laid
Unopened pots of marmalade,
A rack of crisply well-browned toast –
A bill-free pile of morning post –
The smooth scalp of an egg boiled well
Emerging from its perfect shell;
Fresh fruit the sous-chef went to forage
Garnishing my bowl of porridge,
And cheeses stacked in shiny towers
With butter pats like tiny flowers
That melt as streams of tea flow past,
With smoothies labelled ‘berry blast’
And – give the people what they want –
A flaky, chocolate-filled croissant.
It’s all so perfect in my head,
I’ll just have breakfast here in bed.

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