The sun casually reclined across
the breakfast table, loosing sparks
from the assorted preserve jars
gathered in the center. Inspired, I took
the orange marmelade and slathered it
over you as if you were an oven-hot
English muffin awaiting adornment;
then we began to feast.
I kept some
of the crumbs we left behind; occasionally
I'll nibble one, for the sake of sun and
oranges and you.