Sunny Side Up

Sunny Side Up I feel the need to feed my soul, egg yolks cracking, upon a stove, Images scrambled in my brain, hatching dreams so as to breathe. Will I be bold and create souffle, or poach your thoughts instead ? Plucking notions from the flames, beating words until I'm dead. Should I whisk my words in rage or with passion romantic tread ? Perhaps I should wait a little while, until your mind, is fully fed . Perhaps you prefer chicken Rossini with Caruso sauce for tea. Or George Gershwin is your passion so there is little need for me ? And If our souls connect in time, then, discarded on some higher shelf Forever lost amidst the cook books, operas ? And unused china delf. I will still love you from afar, for trying to understand the misunderstood, For sometimes I touch an empty heart, to selfishly feed the poet's soul. But if you starve , I am to blame, my words have not fed your heart Yet if you dance around the flame and leave my table feeling whole, I will don my toque, unscramble the words, and offer them with love, And walk, my head held high, to serve your dreams upon my stove . Well, at least it's food for thought .