roll with egg

let’s sit and eat cake, said sponge.
we can’t, said breadroll.
yes, you’re right there, said sponge, no cake, not now.
wherever we are, said breadroll, we both are just buns from an oven. crumbling over time until sightly no more and then tossed in rain to be hacked by birds and then soil again.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.