Strange surge of creativity
12:36 a.m. on 10-01-02
I'm not sure why I wrote this. I just kinda... did. And I'm too tired to make the distinction if it's actually good or not, so I'm putting it on here.
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Wake up the kids
It's 7:30
The smell of fresh black coffee
Comfort of her old bathrobe
Pinpricks of his stubble
On her softly worn cheek
In the kitchen
Pop Tarts are roasting
In the discount toaster
The dull hum of the fan overhead
Provides backround music
To the breakfast of champions
She watches them down the Cheerios
She prepared with hasty perfection
Their Kool Aid moustaches now lined with milk
Sucked through a lost tooth hole
She watches him silently read the paper
And eat around the burn in his toast
Screen door slams
Tiny footsteps board the bus
Sun shines through the glass pane window
Their eyes meet across the table
And for a moment
They are young again.
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