i walk my way to the wooden table
to sit in my favorite dining chair,
i look down upon the plate placed in front of me
two large yellow yolks stare back at me,
begging to be broken by the burnt toast
the sausage pleads not to be cut into pieces
hot maple syrups begins to run between its edges
all made to be consumed
only to end up in a porcelain bowl
a single tear falls onto the center of my plate.