Griddle play

there are days when all seems lost
There are times when you wonder
If you will last

Feelings running laps around your ever heavier soul
The starting pistol gripped in your hand
Knowing, but wondering still if it would do the trick

And then you smell,
The wonderful aroma, of breakfast being created
On the griddle

The griddle
Savior of days past
And days to come
The sizzle, you lose during the day, and into the disturbance
Of your sleep

The griddle that makes you
Wonder what could go wrong
The answer of course being everything

But for the moment

The griddle
Fills your being with hope
Gratitude, love
Yes love for the griddle,
Above all else.

The griddle