The egg bursts open and young yolk sizzles on the griddle,
The sunrise blushes a hint of yellow to match,
Dew glistens on fresh raspberries, her cheek ruddy and soft,
No pulp to strain from the orange juice, leave it innocent and raw.
Early Morning Breakfast, the beginning.

The sun straight up in the sky, direct, blinding,
Fleshy peaches, juicy steak, fruit at its ripest, meat at its prime
Apples never bruise, and neither do sixteen year olds,
No rush, yet she speeds through the drive-in and microwaves on high
Nothing’s fast enough
Afternoon Lunch, any restaurant in the universe.

The first star emerges from the dusk, a sign,
Dinner approaches, a menu uncooked,
Spaghetti for the kids, kibbles for the kitty,
For her, a glass of deep red wine and steamed spinach,
She used to eat meatballs too,
Dark Dinner, the daily grind.

Lemon drops dissolve like her life, bittersweet,
Pixie sticks shower her in neon sugar flashbacks of teddy bears and hope,
Mint ice cream soothes the aching back, fudge flows over regrets,
Once craving caramelized carrot tarts with mango reduction sauce, she now has wisdom,
Perspective, nothing matters but the cherry on top,
Midnight Dessert, paradise will be sweet.