[I like brunch. Lots of tea and cookies. A scone, maybe two scones, some tea. Some quiche, a sandwich, another scone. Excellent.]
I arrive in advance and scout my spot. Are you here? You are not. I settle myself closest to the buffet. I arrange my silverware, I don't play. I've got plans this sunny day, to have high tea in my favorite suit, gray. I order a cafe, I settle my napkin so. I'm waiting for you don't you know. The bell is rung, our service is begun. I fill my plate, until the space is all gone. A bit of berry, to make me merry. A side of egg, oops, some on my leg. A few slices of bread, to make the most, of this sunny-side up toast. Asparagus is good I guess, but cucumber sandwiches are the best. And then the scones, the reason I left home. The reason my belly will soon have a dome. A bit of butter, a smear of jam, a scone brings all the happiness that it can. And where it can't, it fills you up, and all the days worries, it'll interrupt.
[Happy brunch y'all!]