Breakfast with the Lady Poet

She throws the pen down
Goes to the freezer and gets a frozen bagel
One of those real ones
Not the store bought . . .
A free range bagel

She separates the halves and pops them
Into a toaster

She returns to her journal
“Poetry is a cruel Lover
cold with words and meanings

we are alone
all through the night,
neither one
waking up to a Lover’s kiss”

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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