The Rainbow Easter Egg Museum

The Rainbow Easter Egg Museum

I remember, I was a child when
Old Steve the Cat found the last one in June,
  Behind the antique old stick broom,
And pawed an egg about the room,
  It was dyed green, reeked of gangrene,
Old Steve the Cat had smelled a rat,
  But what he found was only that

I’m much older now, we haven’t kids,
Yet we still draw with crayon, candle pieces,
  Creating Easter eggs – our masterpieces!
My flair’s for large wide dazzling eyes,
  Big smiley faces, undisguised,
She draws cute cats and daffodils,
  Mod floral views through window sills

Then in the colored cups they go,
  We bathe them for an hour or so,
We’re known to leave some overnight,
  It make deep colors, darkens the light
No, we don’t hide them at our age either,
Once dyed, we nest our broodlings by the score
  Back in their egg boxes once more,
Where they become our Easter Rainbow Egg Museum,
  Safe, humble, simple wholesome pleasure,
Upon a fridge shelf they are treasured

Then through the week at breakfast times,
  I’ll peel a pair, one her’s, one mine,
With toast and butter, or marmalade,
  We love, we relish, each egg we made
First we pick the cracked and ugly,
  Those where our artistry’s in doubt,
After some days, just our best ones remain,
  Those who chide us our artistic clout,
By pleading “Will you eat your masterpiece?”
  Am I to devour my google eyed Mona Lisa?
Or she her crayon Monet water lilies?
  I’m wont to spare these beautiful eggs

Yet it all just feels silly, for we’ll
  Have to eat these last someday,
An Easter Egg should not grow old,
  As ol’ Steve sniffed out so long ago