One lazy Sunday morning, I awoke an hour
Later than my usual six. Tired, with sleep
In my eyes, I looked across the table with a glower
At my husband who sat in front of a heap
Of toast and enjoying a cup of coffee.
Looking at the empty spot in front of my chair,
Which only looked worse by proxy
To the glorious spread; so unfair!
Out loud, calmly, I only said,
"Good morning. Are the kids still asleep?"
He, with his usual monosyllabic talking head,
Looked up briefly to acknowledge my tell,
And gently pushed the plate of toast in front of me.
Crisis averted, we ate breakfast in silent harmony.
Recurring Nightmare - Free Verse
In the distance, the lone blue building stood
Like an oasis in the middle of a desert.
The line that lead out its door stretched
As far as the eye could see,
Forms and figures becoming mere specks
Of dust in the far distance;
Like illusions of weary desert travelers.
The sun beat mercilessly down
On my uncovered head, caught unaware
Of the heat that mornings could bring.
Stranded, stuck, tired, and hungry,
I tapped the shoulder of the stranger in front of me.
"What's with the long line?"
She turned to me with a face that reflected
All the tortured thoughts I also shared.
She sighed, resigned, and said,
"Apparently, kids eat for free at IHOP."
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