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Jed MAG
April 22, 2009
Our books
Resting on the wooden table,
We lean forward
And shell the hard-boiled eggs,
Letting the yolks slip to the ground, for the dog,
And the breaking whiteness
Collects in a tidy pile,
The dog does his job well
Because,
According to you, elder brother,
He likes them a little rare, with pepper
The clock hits ten
And in peaceful silence
I told you I loved you
Through shelled eggs, our common ground of books, a hungry dog
Never spoken before
© Molly H., Lynden, WA
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This article has 2 comments.
Naomi said...
on May. 11 2009 at 1:51 pm
wow this shows a powerful connection between you and your brother
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