Toast

Awake, sleep is washed from dreamy eyes. Instincts old and new arrive to drive the days's perspective. I must convey that my heart sings when java, hot and steamy, brewed in my own pot or not, flavored with my favorite mocha, mint or cream, wakes me from a hazy dream. Another jewel of life is toast to eat, when made just right, covered with the gel of bee or berry. I turn again at night to the chance that I might marry ala mode with apple pie. I could have A bulging belly, several chins and tighter rings. Thus I end another day with wise and prudent leadings. Where is the nearest fast-food restaurant so I can get my feeding?