Endless Breakfast – 27 Sept. 2015
Let us breakfast eternally
In the Sunday sun on the balcony
As if it were our last
And drink mimosas and Irish coffee
From presses and bottles that fill endlessly
They’ll just know—we’ll never ask.
And we’ll nip and nibble, and perhaps we’ll speak
Though there’s no more we ned to say
When our mouths were empty we filled them with words
Some sweet, or bitter, of every taste.
And we chewed them, and reviewed them
And washed them down with wine
In the evenings of our young tongues
In the dancing drunk sublime.
We had thirst and we had hunger
We drank when we were cold
We were young to come together
But together we’ve grown old.
And too not age of mind.
It’s a taste for us together.
For our ripeness.
For our time.
The table has grown longer
Though we still can reach across,
And taste each other’s fingers,
Before they spoil or go lost.
The table will grow wider—
Not of spite and not of hate—
Merely by what we’ve ordered:
We’ve developed different tastes.
Let us break fast, and break it clean
Before we grow too full
Before the clouds swallow our morning sun
And the storms begin to roll
Let us love our meals together
Let us drink to our own health
Let us love what we have come to
And how we’ve marked ourselves
Let us savor what we have tasted
And it not fade into the past
Let this breakfast be eternal
For it must be our last.