I like things dark
Turkey, coffee and eggs.
Grandpa had a chicken farm.
I was a Candler;
I was child labor;
I was paid in malteds
Across the street at the luncheonette.
So rare a double yolk,
But this morning Sunday breakfast—
An omelet with three eggs—
The first egg opened
And out pours a double yolk.
Long time no see—one was broken—
Making me doubt, but yes it was double.
The second egg opened—another double.
History in the making, and me cracking
A silent bet with the Gods.
Was I on a roll with the Muses
And their gentle tithings?
Reflection: Yup, three in a row, and now I am left wondering about the rest of the box reminding me to respect my fortune and not go the way of the gambler.
P.S. So far five out of 12.