Few words have hit me the same way as these
Brunch shift, a coworker put me at ease:
“You seem like you’d enjoy breakfast,” he said
Was it just me… were my eyes growing wet?
The meal of all meals, the best of the three
And here he thought this one represents me?
Hand on my heart, I move to speak,
“It’s breakfast cuisine that makes me go weak…”
Oh breakfast, sweet breakfast, start to each day
My heart is yours; here it is, if I may
Options abound, there’s an entree for all
Elderly folks and infants who crawl
Oatmeal with honey, cinnamon, and cream
Scones scathing hot that come bursting with steam
Pancakes, waffles, toast of French roots
Drizzles of syrup give all these a boost
On-the-go breakfasts are small and contained
Still, muffins and pastries? None have complained!
Donuts deserve a saga of their own…
And bagels––sweet breads trigger satisfied moans
Eggs are magnificent, pleasing to crowds
Circles of sunshine on tiny white clouds
All by themselves they deserve celebration
Though multiple forms lead to menu frustration
Scrambled or boiled? Fried, poached, or steamed?
Indecisive eaters might as well scream
If solo they ride, eggs act well alone
Yet Benedicts also place eggs in their zone
Eggs garnish a toast (or serve as a dip)
With a carton on hand, you’re well-equipped
Fancy, late brunches are now all the rage
I swear society’s just in a stage
Breakfast and lunch, a nice pair, for a bit
But former will triumph; lunch will submit
The truth is that breakfast’s a cut above
Its long list of foods fits guests like a glove
While eating early, you dream up big plans
The whole day laid out before you, it spans
Then an idea strikes, eyes all a glimmer
“Of this I’m sure—I’ll make breakfast for dinner!”
Cover Photo courtesy of CotterCrunch
Gusto Journal 