The rays slowly creep their way by,
taking over the shadows darkened lines.
Critters awaken and the birds begin to fly,
up the spouts the spiders slowly clime.
Eggs frying, toast toasting, the coffee smell,
the bacon crispy forks and knives laid.
Captured by the taste of breakfasts spell,
soon to go do work to someday get paid.
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Author:
Maplespal (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 19th, 2026 16:44
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
Comments1
Worked on a dairy farm when I was young and you just described it in this poem. Well written
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