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Eggs and bacon;
tea and toast;
coffee and waffles;
everybody craves something inside them
so that they can awaken-
something that they can eat
while picking up the early morning post,
something that they can savour every bite of,
something that they can eat with a gobble.

A full-English breakfast;
a blueberry muffin;
a bowl of fresh-fruit-
something you have every morning
and will have every morning
until your last;
something new you have been meaning to try,
and this morning you have decided to take a breath and dive in;
something hot; something cold;
something to look at and salute;
something that just hits the spot;
something that in its on right
is a gorgeous thing to behold.

Healthy, or unhealthy;
simple, or extravagant;
a boiled egg that when you break the shell
the yoke is still runny;
a gift from your own garden, perhaps,
and a gift of one of your own plants.

Breakfast that you yourself make;
breakfast that you share;
breakfast that you bake;
breakfast that you eat for a dare;
breakfast on holiday;
breakfast in bed;
breakfast that is like a buffet;
breakfast that is so tasty and amazing
just one bite instantly goes to your head.

A bowl of cereal;
a tub of porridge;
a delicious, succulent, and juicy, melon-
that tastes so sublime you swear that it can’t be real;
a pretzel that you eat on a busy street;
a stack of pancakes that you share
which are dripping in honey on a plate,
on a kitchen table, in a cozy country cottage.

In a cup, on a plate,
in a bowl, as a way to raise your heart-rate;
in small bites, or something you have in one go and whole;
in paper, in a glass;
something of infinite flavour;
something you can eat slow;
something you have got to eat on the go and in a dash-
there is no more important meal
to make sure you have and don’t pass,
and that is breakfast.

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Early in the morning,
as the stars shine at night,
love makes my heart sing,
music fills my life;
when I wake up and the rain is pouring,
as I drift off to sleep,
a song, a voice, a melody,
takes me to my dreams and set alight
my deep thoughts like a fire.
My dreams are epic,
my dreams are sometimes dark-
but they are more often than not
overwhelmingly insightful and bright.
My dreams have things in them that have significance
and hidden meaning-
whether it is the sight of a typewriter,
or the echo of a clocks tick,
or the sight of someone taking a photograph of me
as I am taking a picture of them-
it always amazes me what my own subconscious conjures up
during the day in the heat of the sun,
or at night when the moon is reflecting light back at the Earth
and at all of us and influencing our thoughts and fortunes.

We all go to bed with thoughts, feelings,
and inflections of the day before that is slowly drifting away,
and its events will soon have gone by and be no more
than a shadow, when all is said and done;
we all wake up the next day feeling different,
but with certain splinters in our mind
still playing on our thoughts
that we can’t rid ourselves of or shake easily-
some of us get up and try to start their day
and free ourselves of any lingering worries or concerns
with a daily morning run,
some of us sit up in bed and listen to music,
watch TV, read a book, write poetry,
someone of us take hold of our favourite instrument
and play to our hearts content,
some of us just sit and cry on our own,
just so we can vent.

Talking is important;
connections are essential;
letting out and letting go
can be like the cool water from a font;
remembering the people you love,
and where you want to be,
because they are to you the most wonderful and the most special,
needs to be, must be, will always be-
and that is why you must run, walk, look, see,
the magic all around in the daylight;
that is why you must run into the ocean of the unknown;
that is why you need to touch and feel a part of the light;
that is why you must be fearless, bold, and brave,
and let the world and everything in it fill your life.

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