For Trotsky, no, not that one.
Farewell delicious citrus companion,
For three years we shared our breakfast table,
Breaking the night’s fast together as one,
And now, you gone, and I, miserable.
Three-fold were your sweet sunshine hued fruit rinds,
Melded too with sugars from cane filled isles.
Our love connection, forged by taste and mind,
Child of copper-bottomed pot, yielding smiles.
On your empty jar my eyes now alight,
Glazed remnants, windswept oceanic smears,
A cartograph of gold tinted delights,
The vacuum you leave fills me with tears.
How crushing now, the thought of undressed toast,
Come the breaking day, I’ll miss you the most.
Please do leave me your thoughts and comments, in praise or constructive criticism, I appreciate them all and will reply.