Categories
Eating Food Growing up Pleasures Poetry

Eggy Bread

Egg

This ain’t no restaurant “French toast”

it’s made over burning logs

in the country air

Foundation for the morning

Set against a glorious sunrise

and cups of camp tea

Thick crusty bread

absorbed in a lake of

golden runniness

Bacon awaits its partner

as it cooks away

in its fat

Poor Man’s omelette ?

after a night on the hills

it’s the food of kings.

Knives and forks ?

or eaten as a sandwich

only quandry – sauce Red or Brown ?

By inkdropk

Born and Bred in Salford, England - I live a short distance from Old Trafford - Home to Manchester United Football Club. I volunteer at Sale Harriers athletic club and at Imperial War Museum North - where i help as a guide to visitors in the galleries. A blogger, photographer, volunteer and occasional writer.

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