Poem -
Halfmoon
My spinach omelet was a perfect little halfmoon.
It even had the same colour of a halfmoon.
Thin like a crape, good on my plate. I eat it up, eat
it up.
Now you should know really I shouldn't have eggs.
It's an old person thing, I need to watch my weight.
But I made it with bacon and sausage, I made up
My plate. But the look of a perfect little halfmoon
Made it taste like I visited space and I was happy
for it.
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Comments
Such an entertaining read, most endearing Rory your crepe sounds delicious especially with the side order of bacon and sausages, would one enjoy a nice cup of tea with all that? 🤣
A black coffee is my go to
I knew it 🤣
I'm hungry now! Which isn't good because I too, have to watch my weight. Actually, I haven't got to watch it (I forgot that bit) I have to do something about it 🫤
A wonderfully tasty poem x
Hey, thanks though for checking this space out
who wouldn't want a trip to the moon for breakfast Rory x
Is that what I'm saying? Better than a trip to blood pressure land
In my world it is... blood pressure is too.... earthly? Take me to the moon any day. 😊😊🤩
What about this? If I'm not feeling as adult as I should, having to watch what I eat is certainly reminding me, diet is a man problem. The point is to just say F*** it. I'm regressing to a time where my food was a magical adventure, a sort of dichotomy, if you will.
Let food be the magical journey R ( in the absence of drink and drugs) cos life surely isn't x
Of fuck...yes it is... life can be an utter joy R... ignore above
Enjoy your ommlette... enjoy life x
I enjoyed this a whole lot