Even when the moments of our lives are like the double-glazing salesmen of doom, hanging around our azalea beds of despondency there is still time for those first buds of the spring to take our marshmallows far from these forgotten TV schedules of the heart and turn them into the teacakes of a new dawn, whilst also providing a new pot of tea.
A nice cup of tea is all that is needed to take the day away from such forlorn despondency and to awaken us all to the joys of the toast that is yet to come.
The marmalade of possibility stands on the breakfast table of our hopes and dreams, to make the toast of our mornings glow with the delights of a thousand chunky orange suns.
The butter of times yet to come stands waiting too for the knife of all our longings to spread it out over the toast of our day. The dark uncertainties of night have faded and gone, like the burnt toast of all our secret nightmares.
We have a day waiting for us and it can only contain more toast and further nice cups of tea, and how could life ever get any better than this?
We have seen the future and it tastes of toast.
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