My breath smells of coffee....
Several cups
I have finished already.
This is one of those nights,
When my thoughts I have yet
To turn into verses....
They are all too shy to come out,
Refusing still, to be revealed.
While I wait for the empty cups to be refilled,
A lonely moth circles the lamp and me.
On and on, I tap my pen on the table,
Til I've scribbled something on  paper.
Still, the moth goes round and round,
Circling my face, very near my mouth.
The light flickers as it wanders near...
I wonder if it's the lamplight that calls
To the moth
Or, is it my breath that smells of coffee...

Sally


Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan