It’s Sunday morning
in the corner diner,
we finally got ourselves up.
The fat we are chewing,
the coffee is brewing and,
it’s time we both had a cup.
But nothing outshines,
no nothing is finer than,
you and maple syrup!
Stacks of flapjacks
hot off the griddle,
with blueberries plump in
the middles.
But the crowning jewel,
what makes us drool,
is what we can see
from the maple trees.
“Oh my dear,
lean over the table, I like it
when you are near.”
I feed you, and you feed me,
and there you have it: jubilee.
Pancaked between a
Saturday and Monday,
Sunday brunch is the sweetest.
We’ll brush our teeth,
so they won’t decay,
then walk through the park,
on this sunny day.
