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Rated: E · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2310922

Entry for Writer's Cramp "Epulaeryu"

Runny egg yolk spills atop
the toast, soaking through
butter and bread to the plate.
Made by Mother's hands,
each forkful bursting
with her love,
warm!







This is an updated version of the poem. For more details and the original, see my blog post ""Poached Eggs" - Poem Edit" .

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