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.