
The Best Laid Eggs
and as I peel eggs today, the soft white flesh sticking to the shell, and tearing away in ragged clumps,
My thoughts
Wander away with
Those words
pumped up with helium,
Words that escape the tongue
And rise into the sky
like smoke
And vanish as we sleep,
words like
A story’s seedling,
Rising into a bat’s view
And then gone into
the unheard air,
and I realise these eggs have been in the wars, and are better suited for Grandma Eunice’s egg salad.
© Misky 2020
5 responses to “The Best Laid Eggs”
Reblogged this on The Journal.
LikeLike
Love this Misky, identifying with that same result. You placed a simple frustration in its proper place so well. This could be framed and displayed on the kitchen counter. Poems have a best place and purpose, as well.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Merry Christmas, Damon!
LikeLike
And to you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Egg salad–Yummm!
LikeLike