624. 30/8/16 (#616)
Two half-slices of toast
Jagged edges cannot match
Crumbling at but a touch
Leaving tiny brown specks on a little plate
How pointlessly I examine the detail
Of two half-eaten slices
For no reason, no purpose
But that perhaps there was...
Something more important to be seen.
I appreciate this is possibly one of my lamest poems - but I really had to write about toast...don't judge me