Breakfast Time 7.30am Poem by Tracy WatsonBrown
Breakfast Time 7.30am
I add mayo to prawns.
Stirring, the squelch of fish on sauce is satisfying.
You eat breakfast.
A blob on the bread spreads with difficulty.
You read the newspaper.
Foil prepared, I fiddle for a knife-
'I can't hear the radio' you say.
'This is your sandwich' I think.
I mutter 'I am making your effing sandwich! '
And I don't throw the knife
But I hope a prawn chokes you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/20/2024 5:34:14 PM # 1.0.0.1119
