May I awaken with thoughts to scribble before the fried eggs blister, an aromic pleasure pushing me to take another bite.
A satisfying taste over the languish of my appetite. Peach stained lips are calling me back for yet another assailed offering. Because you know what it takes for me to remember to lean back into the gentle welcome of you— to trust the sprouting incarnations of a lover, a hearty and bountiful feast to routinely regale.
My abundant harvest.