There it was - An empty cup of steaming foam
Today I’ll tell you what I have had enough
It’s something that has made me assume I’m tough
In mysterious ways it has worked on my nerves
As a hot beverage that’s poured in a cup of curves
At times, it’s nothing less than boiling wine
For the taste and texture are just fine
Too late to regret as it’s gone in my DNA….or deeper
I’ve found that I’m no longer a great sleeper
Now watch it well, if you ask me what it was called
I’ll spill it on your head and make you bald
I was never too close to mention about the damned drink
It’s a coffee, made to lift you and not sink
This
is my first poem and is dedicated to an ardent coffee lover who was a
coffee bean herself in her past life. It’s none other than Am Ma’m.
Too good ;-D
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