A touch of butter
warm and melted
on my mouth
reminds me of a smile
we might have shared
had we yet met;
the sweep of tea
astringent, hot
across the palate
brings to mind
the shock of
recognition
a soul can feel
when seeking
a companion;
hot mug, cool glass
against those
fine tuned nerves
in every finger
turn thoughts to
skin and hair
caressed, caressing...
breakfast,
such a simple meal
suddenly a source
of sensual suggestion...
perhaps I should not
have chosen
crumpet.
Midnight Clarity
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/breaking-my-fast/
