...shared in another thread...brought over here for you all...
My Tea, Toast, and Ten-past FiveNo beams from headlights scan my street,
no conversations filter past,
I have my tea and toast to drink
to write a bit, while wakings last.
My wife, well-hugged in kindly warmth,
lies blithely there, all wrapped in dreams,
half-full, the moon strides through the night
to limn the snow with gentle beams.
A sip, a bite, and like the moon,
my toast and tea are halved as well,
my poet's eyes are wide-awake,
but hope for rest where sleepers dwell.
How greatly calming is this night,
enhanced with friends, Good Toast and Tea,
with farewell kisses, off they go,
to pilgrim on, inside of me.
Blessings,
Parm
