Scrambled Eggs and Wine

By Debbie Johnson

My mother’s eyes were hazel,

gray on the days 

when there were pains,

Blue on the days she giggled, green

in times she stewed

in the juices she made,

And admitted 


I’m a mess. 

But I love you just the same.

They all look at you 

when you come in the room.

You light it up,

She'd say,

Your smile, your eyes, 

They all look at you.

I glance around 

And see no one's gaze,

Just an afternoon lunch

Of scrambled eggs, white wine, 

Side of bacon, and toast. 

They served breakfast all day,

The restaurant dim, but sunny bright. 

Comfortable hues, soft fabrics, 

Familiar walls and table linen. 

You are so beautiful,  

She’d tell me, and I smiled,

Thanks, mom, not believing.

Her eyes were red most days, 

Watery, and l'm-a-mess colored. 

Her missing

Him missing

I’m missing 

Scrambled eggs and wine. 

Fuel your muse

5% of sales benefit the Durham Literacy Center. This medium-dark roast blend is a partnership with our fellow B-Corp Certified friends at Lulu Press.

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