$CLOUT Poetry - Fatty Spits

ramblingrose

A poem about waking up early being oddly excited for breakfast.

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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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