Sunny Side Up
Sunny Side Up
I feel the need to feed my soul, egg yolks cracking, upon a stove,
Images scrambled in my brain, hatching dreams so as to breathe.
Will I be bold and create souffle, or poach your thoughts instead ?
Plucking notions from the flames, beating words until I'm dead.
Should I whisk my words in rage or with passion romantic tread ?
Perhaps I should wait a little while, until your mind, is fully fed .
Perhaps you prefer chicken Rossini with Caruso sauce for tea.
Or George Gershwin is your passion so there is little need for me ?
And If our souls connect in time, then, discarded on some higher shelf
Forever lost amidst the cook books, operas ? And unused china delf.
I will still love you from afar, for trying to understand the misunderstood,
For sometimes I touch an empty heart, to selfishly feed the poet's soul.
But if you starve , I am to blame, my words have not fed your heart
Yet if you dance around the flame and leave my table feeling whole,
I will don my toque, unscramble the words, and offer them with love,
And walk, my head held high, to serve your dreams upon my stove .
Well, at least it's food for thought .
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