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An Excuse
by Uriel TovarI remember the package
Of six eggs
Half a dozen
Painted across the
Linoleum
Streaks of
Morning gold
Racing to be caught
By something other than
A graying mop
Puddles appearing and
Disappearing
With every broad stroke of her arms
A smile brighter than the now
A hundred degree sun
Blazing through the paper
Thin
Curtains that we both picked
Out
I am
Brewing eight cups
Of coffee
Even though she hates the taste
And dislikes
The smell
Thinking about
How wonderful it is
To be able to
Grab breakfast at the corner café
With her.
07/26/2012 Posted on 07/26/2012
Copyright © 2025 Uriel Tovar
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Scott Utley on 07/27/12 at 08:33 PM Very nice work - almost too familiar, it seems very exotic - unique and original and I am left thinking ... |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 07/27/12 at 10:30 PM I like the mindset of this. Particularly in the last stanza. |
| Posted by Dane Campbell on 08/07/12 at 05:45 PM Quite wonderful. There is a certain elegance to its beauty. |
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