Breakfast Poem in my Home

“White House Inn”

Crackling smacking popping splits

My eardrums as I waddle forth

The smells of morning trickle in

Of breakfast, rolls, eggs, and grits

Not for me, but for my friends

The sleepy men of white house inn

And slowly we awake and cringe

To class room seats that makes us sore

But back to breakfast for a spell

For Christopher has wakened well

Dressed and clean he dapperly dons

The best of fashion and hums along

His thousand songs he sings aloud

In high pitched voice with many vowels

Like rooster crowing in the morn

Hellooo! He bellows with bronze horn

But Jeff is like a happy mouse

Squeaking proudly smiling bright

The morning waits for him to rise

Before the sun shines it’s light

Oats and raisins are his fare

Too good for coffee black or cream

Mornings bring him little thought

Because he likes to laugh a lot  

Grunts and sighs are heard around

And coffee perks and bubbles loud

Bacon fries and bagels bake

We rub our eyes and soon awake

And then comes Timothy prancing in

Like deer or fawn or creature brim

A kind, which of later time

We’ll one day find to be divine

For he became an Anglican

And left us Presbyterian

Off he goes to morning mass

But wait, that’s Catholic, what an ass

Then comes Ben who bumbles bringing

Bragging breaming slowly dreaming

He too awakens from his sleep

But always looks to be counting sheep

There they stand the men so proud

Of white house inn and yell aloud

“We are men who sleep too deep”

But where is Andrew… still asleep

Lost in bed his pillow filled

With pounds of lead and iron gild

I saw him once ere clock struck six

Was that him, or played he tricks?

Regardless there is one left out,

Me of our course, I scream in shout,

So here I am in sweat pants clad,

Am I awake, have I gone mad?

A stare at Sheva in window bright

Her web has taken flea from flight

I watch the squirrels run up the tree

“Joseph,” a voice calls to me

“Yes” I say, I look around

The men of white house inn sit down

For breakfast in our humble home

The place in which we share shalom