Egg

Egg

There’s a single egg in the fridge

Which sits alone and forlorn

Abandoned by the rest of its dozen

The only lonely occupant

Of that plastic frame within the door

I’m in a quandary on how best I should proceed

Since it’s simply not enough on its own

It really needs a good companion

To make up a proper omelette

Or to be scrambled with butter

If only there were some bread

I could summon some soldiers of toast

And have it soft-boiled

Before roughly knocking its head off

And dunking them in headfirst

Or perhaps poached gently in some hot water

Swirling in a vortex of bubbles and steam

Maybe slowly baked in a ramekin

In a low-oven’d bain-marie

Or hard-boiled to make a feeble sandwich

Yes, there’s a single egg in the fridge

And it probably thinks that it’s escaped

However I fear it’s much mistaken

Since now that I’ve spotted the bacon

I can configure a Full English

And it’s got a future fried

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020