It smells of breakfast memories

(Please check out more of Richard Sheppard’s work here: )

Breakfast at the diner
sounds great just about now,
laughing about my pathetic attempts
to save my eggs from your evil attacks
while fake tears run down my cheeks
sympathizing with the egg yolks running onto the plate.

It’s a beautiful morning
After a massive thunderstorm,
As my body bounces to the rhythm
Of my long steps towards a brand new day.
I am loving it.
And so does, it seems, everything around me.

It snowed pink petals onto the cobble stones
That carry the world below Osgood Hall,
Annoying a squirrel that has one stuck to its tail.
I can’t help but look up the great Maple tree,
Starting at one new green leaf, amazed,
And then overwhelmed by the thousand others.

I am loving it.
Down to the very core of my being.
I am loving it.
And although you won’t be at the diner,
I know you’re loving it too.
Have a wonderful day.


~ by spasmicallyperfect on May 15, 2007.

4 Responses to “It smells of breakfast memories”

  1. That’s a beautiful poem. It sounds like the story of my life this morning. I have a tree across from my window with pink petals falling all over the grass. I also had eggs for breakfast. It was goooood.

    Thanks P. Glad you could identify…… nothing beats breakfast, that’s for sure.

  2. It was very nice. And the verses were visually entertaining.
    (But never worry about runny eggs that is what a good old hot biscuit is for.)

    Thank you Scoundrel (for dropping by and your kind words). And you are right about the eggs…….

  3. BEAUTIFULLL . (Caps Lock Intentional!)

    Rahul, thank YOU so much. Glad you enjoyed it and welcome to my space.

  4. You know what I love about you, Spaz? That you love life so much. You take joy in everything around you. I would like to be you when I grow up.
    Oh Annie, you make me laugh. There are many days when I wonder when I’ll ever grow up. There are also other moments where I feel so old (mostly when walking behind a group of young teens being noisy 😉 ).
    I do love life, and deep down I always have. It’s taken a very long time to allow myself to love life, despite all the bad things that happen, despite the spasmicallyperfect (=with imperfections) person I am. It’s made all the difference. One just has to look around and look at all the miracles out there. We are one of those miracles. And if anybody went through so much to create these miracles, it surely wasn’t for us to feel miserable about it. And I don’t think we’re that different really.

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