morning arrives
songbird serenades to open sky
while i find my heaven
within a cup thats stained
likened unto a mocha chino sunrise
outside my window  a
fragrant dew soaked crimson
petaled rose
holds no interest
all my concentration rests within
the slow dark descent of liquid gold
as my forefinger makes slow circular motions
tracing the painted daisies upon my cup
my nostrils flair
as the delectable scent of vanilla cream
extrudes from the ***
its ready
i can almost hear it say
are you comming