I went to bed dreaming and woke up
reading a novel
my guitar was already
playing itself
it had written a song that
I can't take credit for
not a bad song for a first effort!
(that I'm aware of anyway - I did
buy it used)
when I went to the kitchen,
the eggs were ready.
They said "fry us! fry us!"
I said "I don't know, guys.
I kind of want a scramble,"
"but our yolks, so perfect..."
Yeah, okay. Fried it is.
Over medium.
Food wants
to be eaten. A guitar
wants to be played
a book, to be read
a dream, to be
awoken from
and lived.
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