The Day Begins.

She moved about the kitchen
Casting shadows from the fire
The dawn mist hung about outside
As though clinging to a mire

She had heard a high pitched whistle
Which sent shivers down her spine
If only she could sit awhile
But there really was'nt time

A sudden movement caught her eye
It was small and very black
It jumped towards the table
To her relief it was the cat

She hurried to the small black pot
Which issued clouds of steam
Then she checked the cupboards
For the tin that she had seen

She measured out a small amount
From the contents of the tin
And then approached the the small black pot
And quickly dropped it in

On the wall there hung a mirror
Into which her eyes could see
Bedraggled hair and dark ringed eyes
Surely thats not me

She heard a sound and moved away
Her task was not complete
Her stomach began to tremble
But she new she could not eat

She placed upon the table
Some items old and new
They were all set out in order
So they would not be refused

Then came the bottled liquid
And the granules she would need
Then mixed them up together
She felt very good indeed

She strode out through the kitchen door
To the stairs her legs unsteady
And screamed out loud, her head erect
"Your bloody breakfasts ready".



Poetry by penfold18
Read 580 times
Written on 2005-12-12 at 12:48

Tags Kitchen 

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wonderful write mate ,,I loved it,,u keep em coming ,,Eddy
2005-12-12


Albert
A nice journey through your kitchen and the haute cuisine that ended up as your gastronomic brekkas, very well written and enjoyed, a darkish piece with light and a message at the end of the tunnel albeit yelled at you.
Regards
Albert
2005-12-12