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Below is the poem entitled SOFT-BOILED EGGS which was written by poet Miss Wattle. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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SOFT-BOILED EGGS My mother was a single parent Who worked her fingers to the bone. She worked long hours morn 'til eve Then dragged her weary body home. She fed me every morn before she left A soft-boiled egg with toast and jam. I wasn't really hungry, a little thing was I, I'd've been content with just the toast and jam. Every morning once she left for work, I'd run across the kitchen floor And throw those eggs right o'er the fence In to the yard next door. Then one day the neighbour happened by And chatted to my mother. In her hands she held five eggs, A dreadful sight for poor dear mother. My mother pulled her hair out, She wrung her hands and begged, "What WILL you eat, my child?!" "Well, not those runny soft-boiled eggs." I said. c ELR 2013

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  1. Date: 10/20/2013 6:20:00 AM
    The poor mother theme ok. But I don't like egg yokes either. Unless their done.

  1. Date: 10/19/2013 9:47:00 PM
    Delightful description of a delightful memory which you still hold dear... sweet! Love ya...xoxox

    Wattle Avatar Miss Wattle
    Date: 10/19/2013 10:06:00 PM Block poet from commenting on your poetry

    Probably not such a great memory for my poor mother, though lol. Have a good night, Jack :) xox