Blundering blearily
into the kitchen.
Boiling briefly,
my start to the day.
My thoughts wandered quick
away from the chicken
to places intriguing
and far away.
The world laid out
on the breakfast table
showed an island,
yellow and flat.
The urban yoke could
be dumped if I’m able,
for a solitary world
with just me and the cat.
I recall the people
of Eigg bought their island.
Egocentrically,
I am one of those folk.
But the mark on the map
was a splash, not a new land.
And sadly my island
was just a yolk.
Wiping my dream
with a wilting soldier,
I savoured the taste
of the final dreg.
New life must wait
until I am older.
Now off I go,
to work, on my egg.
