Betty Bleen

Rookie (Wheeling, WV)

Breakfast Is Served - Poem by Betty Bleen

Toasted English muffins spread with peanut butter and grape jelly,
a simple meal, it is all I have to offer.
I pour you the last few ounces of orange juice, knowing as I do
that you prefer to drink your fruit,
while I relish the taste and texture of a ripened orange.
The coffee is served black; I haven’t made it to the store for cream.
You smile nonetheless, the lines crinkling around your eyes,
and you tell me the meal is deliziosi!
I know you would have preferred better, but you are so sweet,
the idea of complaining would never cross your mind.
The day promises to be pleasant, the sun a shimmering sphere
climbing leisurely over the horizon.
There is no need for words, only the need to touch, our bodies
positioned on chairs but a hairsbreadth apart.
We sit in comfortable silence, this breezeway our personal bistro;
birds the orchestra, serenading us from backyard trees.
A blue jay flies across the yard to perch on a nearby branch.
You say it is as blue as an azure sea.
No, I tell you, it is as blue as your sparkling sapphire eyes.
You chuckle then flatter me; saying, Mi Cherrie, they are just eyes,
created solely for the purpose of drinking in your beauty.
Now it is my turn to laugh.
You are no more French than I am from Mars.
Yet I feel a blush wash over my cheeks.
Almost a year together and still, you move me with your infatuation.
Our eyes lock and I perceive the hunger rising in yours.
You take my hands, fingers caressing the palms.
Pleasure beckons inside the door.
I feel the need to hurry, yet… there is time to be patient,
the day after all just beginning, the night so far far away…


Comments about Breakfast Is Served by Betty Bleen

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Friday, June 3, 2011



[Report Error]