Because my mind is working ahead of my years right now. Tick tock, huh?

Dedicated to Bennett, Macee, and Gena, and likewise inspired.

The yolk sat
like a sun against
a brilliantly cloudless sky –

you stabbed it
watching with relish as
it bled sunbeams into your
toast and hash browns,
laughing, gleaming
brown eyes
looking up for approval –

my answering smile
is transparent, hiding
none of my weariness
with this game,
but you don't catch it,
never catch it,
and your gaze flits
back to the thoroughly
tortured eggs, fingers
joining in to draw sticky
faces in the syrup you
slathered the entire plate in.

Nothing quite as gruesome
as breakfast with a toddler.