dew-covered

cobblestones

reach for toes as

wood is pecked

over our extended roof,

and the cry of daybreak

creeps through my slitted shades.

i embrace the fur of a beast

as a barrage of musty-scented kisses

fill my rusty face.

my mom,

her love lost like the wood off that one oak,

calls “breakfast!”

13 steps,

my nose leads me down.

there lies a feast undeservingly

for me.

cakes, bacon, eggs.

smell comparable to taste.

my plate,

a cornucopia of

compassion.