balanced

[_____watergun]

i miss cracking eggs
nothing says 'good morning'
like breaking something.
the yolks tumbling tenderly
towards an arid landscape,
liquid golden trophies
that sizzle triumphantly.

i miss my messy hands
frantically picking the pan,
a speedy recovery of bits
of white in the yellow scenery.

i miss that kitchen,
where the sunlight crept in
through tree branches.
my new veranda overlooks
a grand, empty hallway
white like the veins of a hospital.

i miss the peeling counter-tops
splattered with scrambled eggs
my mornings moved to cardboard.

i miss cracking eggs.
i miss my messy hands.
emptiness is grand
and lonely
like a hallowed out egg shell.