C is for Coffee

Ode to Coffee

Some think you are empty, disgusting, void of

true taste. Misunderstood are you,

hot drink of mine; you who oozes warmth

and understanding, that quenches my

desire for peace, or inspiration, from

this ivory demitasse or mug,

sometimes tall or grande

and in an excepetion,

venti.

Oh coffee, depart from my lips

only when I depart from this earth-

for whom can I rely on for anonymous trust

who never judges, doesn't impair

(unless a five shot mocha is in order)

or doesn't deceive?

You awake my senses,

every morning, in my pot,

and like my dog, you're alway there,

wherever I roam ...

even on every corner,

in most large cities.

Coffee, my love, may you stay

at my side

... until I feel like tea.

-Heather Spiva