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 ?
Inkdrop is freelance writer with a passion for exploring the intersections between nature, architecture, and artistic expression. With a background in computing, and writing – his pen name harks back to when he played around with rhymes and a fountain pen. Now joined by a selection of created photos from an acquired DSLR camera He shares insights with scribblers of all backgrounds. Outside of visiting museums and exploring the latest in exhibits , he enjoys walking through the countryside in pursuit of the next rainbow.
The Inkwell 
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