breakfast comes in
at a little past eight
a morning ritual
here
served with a smile
the toast warm
the tomatoes sweet
a dozen or so olives
cucumber cheese
a cup of tea
a bottle of cold water
coffee to follow
this is how morning
begins
in my office
while I gaze
at the fountains
outside
Ataturk looks down
from my wall
while scrolls
of bamboo a wild horse
remind me of home
lunch will come later
after a session
at noon
I will chat
with Ali
have two more sessions
dinner with Mustafa
then home
my week has started
with rituals
only distracted
my mind adrift
thinking of a woman
and her rituals
so far apart
but melted together
in my heart
Leonard Durso 
My husband and I spend 6 months of the year on different continents so this is often how my weeks start as well. 🙂 A beautiful poem.
Thank you. 6 months a year on different continents. You must have many stories to tell.
Love this. Breakfast sounds nice but I think I’ve missed it 🙂
Yes, it’s dinner time now unfortunately. But thank you you stopping by anyway.
This is a beautiful, heartfelt poem! Thank you!
Thank you for saying that. I appreciate it.
This is really good. Reminds me a little of Mark Doty. I like how specific you were throughout.
Thanks, Benjamin. I appreciate your comment.