My husband shows his love in many ways. One of them is making food; for most of our marriage, he has been the one who has made almost all the meals. For his Valentine this year, I wrote him a poem about breakfast. I wish I had thirty years of breakfast photos to illustrate with, but these are just from the last few months.
“Here’s your love breakfast,”
you say each morning,
putting down my tray
on the bed in front of me.
Such a variety of love breakfasts:
eggs (scrambled, fried, omelets, frittatas, boiled),
bread (toast, bagels, rolls, biscuits),
pancakes or waffles,
fruit (bananas, mangoes, avocados, tangerines),
tea (hot, with milk and sugar),
cereal (hot or cold, homemade granola),
extras (bacon, sausage, potatoes).
Thirty years of love breakfasts:
breakfast in front of a tent (prepared on a camp stove),
breakfast in one of many little apartments,
breakfast holding a baby,
breakfast with a toddler in a high chair,
breakfast rushing school kids because we’re going to be late,
breakfast before work,
breakfast on vacation.
So many ordinary mornings,
starting the day with your loving care.
Light coming in the windows,
birds singing outside,
you bringing me breakfast
one more time.
Valentine’s Day, 2020
Ruth, from thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com
Linda has today's Valentine's Day roundup.