Eartha Kitt's vibrant voice blends
Even deeper into the mixture.
I see the rain pouring and adding more colors to the rainbow.
Maybe this is only displayed in my mind, but I don't care to find out.
The french toast served, the cafe latte presented. Exactly the way I like it.
This is a short poem I wrote, inspired by a trip my family and I (except for my sister, who due to her lazy yet relaxed nature decided to sleep in :) ) made to a nearby restaurant for breakfast this morning.
It's one of those restaurants where you feel like you own the place, because of how intimate everything is (since it's not a chain restaurant) and how friendly everybody is to one another.
Sometimes I feel like I never want to leave.
Now this is also the kind of restaurant that offers as much food as a person can possibly, humanly eat. The pancakes are not pancakes, but they are two ginormous fluffy discs of deliciousness sandwiching brandied walnuts, diamond-like poppy seeds and warm apple slices that are smothered in cinnamon-flavor. And the eggs--you guessed it--are not eggs, but they're masses of pillows that are sun-colored and that secretly hide mushrooms, tomatoes, spinach and olives that peer through with admiration.
My parents, with not even the slightest amount of hesitation, asked for the amazing (that's an understatement by the way) french toast (dusted with powdered sugar by the perfect amount) and mediterranean omelette. And my 8-year-old brother eagerly ordered a mountain of coziness (in other words, a hot chocolate; please excuse my enthusiastic descriptions of food that go so far sometimes as to not even sound like food! :P).
Me, well because I had told myself the night before to not overeat and to allow my stomach not to become suffocated from overpleasurizing myself in food, I heard my mouth pronounce the words "I would like a whole grain bagel please," as I finished scanning the miles and miles of varieties of bagels staring back at me.
The bagel, like everything else in and about the restaurant, was delicious; the bagels are undoubtedly the fluffiest I've had, as they always come with the sides of raspberry jam and apricot jam that I can never ignore.
I also washed down each bite of my whole grain bagel with my tall cafe latte, that stood proudly in a tall glass cup and that was topped with a cloud of foam from the steamed milk.
I could go on for another hour about each bite I took out of my bagel and about how satisfying the last sips of my latte were...And even about the tantalization of each helping I had of my parents' french toast and omelette...But I'll stop here so I could allow you the freedom to imagine it :) .
When we left the restaurant (counting it as our millionth trip there), I told myself I was extremely thankful that I had the potential to take a trip to Heaven for an hour or so, in a small delicious building that stood only a few minutes (by driving) away.