Cold morning,
I roll over, sad
And mourning.
I just want to lay here,
But I need coffee,
Something warming
And something sober,
Like black coffee.
Stone cold sober.
Strong taste to my buds,
Bitter but sweet,
Without my coffee
I’ll roam around, lost,
Looking beat.
Listening to the
beans roast and
The drip in my ***,
It sounds exactly
Like the drops hitting
My window.
It’s ready.
Hearing the pour,
A small waterfall
Into a cup, the splashes,
The aroma, something
That I can’t get over.
My first sip, it’s hot and bitter
But delicious nonetheless,
It’s perfect for the early bird,
They always say it,
They get the worm.
Until next time
Empty cup. Half a day
wait and another cold
Morning on it’s way,
Sit here and wait
Until I wake up,
For another sober cup.
Everyone can probably relate.
