Written in honor of the various Omelettes made during the course of my Ireland trip. Also, for my general love of them. Inspired and addressed to my eternal muse, Emma. No, not you Nurdan. You know why.
'I could try
To juggle
These eggs'
I said.
Merely too see
The alarm
Flash through your eyes.
We are making
Omelettes today.
Omelettes mean
Privacy, my kitchen
And home.
This situation
Has none of the
Above ingredients
Needed for
The perfect
Omelette.
What we have is
Lachie's pursed up lips
Your calm eyes
My egg making skills
In a tiny kitchen
In a city
We don't belong to.
These are a new
Kind of omelettes
Of a new kind of
Friendship.
Lets put
Laidbackness
Moonshine laughter
Adventure
Comfort
And the odd cuddle in
To see
What these
Omelettes
Taste like.
A bit like us,
I suppose.
But not in a
Cannibalistic way
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