Breakfast in BedRate this poem
From the book The Armpit of Doom
This morning I made my mom breakfast in bed.
I tried to be careful, but burnt all the bread.
I tried to make sure that the coffee was hot,
by boiling the bit left in yesterday’s pot.
I charred a few pancakes, potatoes, and grits.
The sausage, I seared into smoldering bits.
I made her some muffins like miniature coals,
and roasted a package of cinnamon rolls.
I scorched several servings of hamburger hash,
and microwaved bacon until it was ash.
I blackened a bagel, which started to smoke.
The smoke alarm sounded. My mother awoke.
I think she was panicked. She looked up in dread.
I proudly presented her breakfast in bed.
She grimaced, then silently counted to ten,
and asked me to never make breakfast again.
— Kenn Nesbitt
Copyright © 2008. All Rights Reserved.
Reading Level: Grade 4
From the Book The Armpit of Doom
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