Breakfast Reflections

At the table, stillness, cereal floats in milk,

thoughts skim the surface, like whispers of silk.

I turn the box over, read words that don’t matter,

as promises printed feel empty and scattered.

Cartoon mascots grin, promising fun,

but the joy in the bowl has come undone.

Routine settles in, each spoonful a chore,

seeking meaning in breakfast, but finding no more.