The Fortunate Morsel

Mother's Day 2016...Noon: A True Story.

Upon a May morning at breakfast
My lady dined on some scramblege of eggs.
Lovingly blent, so no longer fowl...
She then, with ease, enjoyed the repast.
Then from still drowsy lips fell unchewed dregs,
That stained her blouse and made her scowl.
"Why scowl?" quoth I. "Thy breast was but gently pressed".
Then she said she feared her raiment was wrecked
And tis true that's no way to start the day.
Then I, of the crises, wisely addressed...
"Blame not the morsel upon blouse bedecked,
Fate has decreed that the best place to lay
For your bosom, my dear, is the vertex of grace
Even morsels know...there's no finer place!"