I hardly ever see Saturday morning,
these days.
It's just too early
to be up and about
when I don't have to be.
But a long time ago,
we lived in the duplex with
peeling and cracking ceilings
accented by spiderwebbed paint.
Every morning,
Mom would wake me,
I'd crawl out of bed
hunt through the
white metal cabinet
and pour myself a bowl of cereal,
then let Mom pour cold milk on top.
But Saturdays were special.
I'd sneak out of bed early,
to watch cartoons.
Dad would wake up,
slice plastic wrapped rolls of sausage
and fry them,
and together, we ate sandwiches.
Lawrence R. Daffner, 4/94