Exceptional a bit of whimsy Cinnamon Bread by adewpearl

When I awoke this morning, no poem danced in my head, just thoughts of cinnamon sugar sprinkled on buttered bread. What purpose has a poet who has no verse to share, no insights churning in her mind, no words in rhyming pair? Perhaps I ought to panic, cry out in plaintive plea -- for now I plan to make that bread and brew a cup of tea. Recognized

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