Surprised I was
when I took a sip
from my cup of coffee.
For some time
it's on the table;
that, my cup of coffee.
It was hot
and bold and fierce;
that, my cup of coffee.
But it grew cold
and all I thought
it only lacked the warmth.
Surprised I was
when I took a sip
the good taste was also gone.
So I thought,
"Did the coldness
really changed your taste?
That flabbergasting,
oh-heart-racing
taste that did chase
My body fluids
throughout my veins
that reached the bed of my brain.
Or were you really,
from the very
beginning, such in a way?
That it's only
that enthusiastic
warmth made my tongue numb
Which made me fail
to taste and feel
your authentic flavour."
Either way
I still believe
that it's my cup of coffee
Which I chose
to love and keep
all throughout this journey.
Fin.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
My Dear Cup of Coffee
Poesía10.09.2018 I never thought that I would pen this out of the blue, out of my blue. It poured on me like waterfalls, painful, cold, and rushing. x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x My thoughts about my Dear in poem form.
