Breakfast

Well, I guess you already know what I did this morning...

My eyes open, like a letter on an envelope
The winds whisper, as dashing as an antelope
Outside foretells a message of a common trope
A calling from the sun, written in my own code
Sparkles emit from the stainless steel tools
A splash of magic like water on teal pools
Malleable colors blend like real jewels
As vibrant as myself, for which I feel cool

Ingredients dance through the rhythm of ballet
Mixing, roaming on the kitchen like a play
Fumbling, cooking, nonhidden from the way
And I, their playwright, with mittens on a tray
Each additives speak ways of the working plan
Pouring white milk on a bowl, while stirring bran
Sizzling oil that bubbles through the burning pan
Dough rises like the sun, while its skin turning tan

Self-banquet of sweets, which I seemed uptight
With savory treats, 'till I ate the last bite
Beams, from the windows, shined like a spotlight
A day has sprung, now the curtains are untied