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Breakfast with a friend
The morning sun is lean and bright,
A lazy, amber, casting light
Upon the wooden table shared,
Where weekend plans are all declared.
Between us sits a sacred spread,
The holy grail of getting fed:
A sizzling hill of gold and red,
Where morning dreams are quieted.
The bacon curls in smoky strips,
A salty crunch upon our lips,
Beside the skillet-roasted spuds,
Tossed in herbs and garlic suds,
Crisped to perfection, edges brown—
No ketchup needed to wash it down.
And on my plate, a lighter sight—
A fluffy mound of pure egg white.
I skipped the yolks to keep it lean,
The healthiest choice you’ve ever seen.
But nothing goes to waste today,
She scooped those golden gems away!
Into her hash, the rich yolks run,
A double dose of morning sun.
Between the forks and empty plates,
A glowing screen now captivates;
Propped up between us on the wood,
A comedy that’s purely good.
We lean right in, our eyes glued tight,
And chuckle at the funny sight.
For bacon crisps and taters fry,
But friendship is the true supply—
A shared laugh and the perfect blend,
That makes a brunch with a good friend.
