Prismatic Mornings

Patterns of starlight on forks in the morn Ah Spinning the records, the morning takes flight The stove hums a tune, to the blueberries' delight Batter that bubbles, the colors merge A canvas on griddles, where dreams converge Blueberry dreams on plates, they gleam Ah [Verse] Imagine yourself in a kitchen so quaint With vinyl collectors and aprons of dye Softly, a fragrance floats in like a saint The chef with the universe's eye Layers of sound, the syrup pours slow A tapestry woven, in breakfast tempo Alchemy love, culinary scene Particles dancing, in steam and in dream Blueberry swirls in circular trance Ah A dab of butter, melting quick Wisps of whispers, the sizzle speaks Notes drifting, a syrupy mix Melancholy joy, the morning leaks Eyes closed, the flavors dance on your tongue Ah Outside the window, the world bends in swirls Ah Melting the corners, reality twirls A forkful ascends, in a syrup-soaked flight Through echoes of kitchen, the day turns to night Galaxies hidden in floury folds Stirring the batter, the sun's early rays Fragment into prisms, a kaleidoscope haze Ah The sizzle resounds, a symphonic drone Flipping the script, where dimensions are sewn Blueberry hues mix in with the sound