Look, coffee pot is on and brewing bitterly
in its wait for us to come back to share it.
I brought it back from Columbia, being allowed
only two five pound bags. We ground it,
steamed it, added little sugar because it was sweet
enough already. God, but it went down easily.
We set dials to automatic so morning’s slow opening
would rise on another evocative urge. I took a go-cup
so I could savor it all day. Evenings, we would wrap up
in each other and curl our lips over cusp of kissing coffee.
I have drunk gallons since then and none tasted
nearly as deep and dark, as rich and royal as that.
I tried Starbucks, African Gold and Kenyan
but none of them carried our story in its steam.
Coffee has lost its kick. There is no joy in guzzling
just to catch a flavor of you. I make it for the smell
and then smash the maker.
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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"I have drunk gallons since then and none tasted
nearly as deep and dark, as rich and royal as that.
I tried Starbucks, African Gold and Kenyan
but none of them carried our story in its steam."
Sighhh...I even tried Jamaican Blue Mountain...I cannot savor what's been lost...Someone who learned of my most recent grief told me to "rise above it"...I thought, "Ohhh, if you only knew how many times I've risen again, you wouldn't be so damned condescending about it." Ahhh, no one knows ~ no one understands where we hurt or why...or even when...I hear ya, my Sister...We shall howl together at the moon...
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ty gf...lookit "I really liked a lot of the entries, but some were just really bad. I liked most of them though. Great job all ya'll"
Isn't that class? Not even a comment.... -
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Hmmm...I'd say "outclassed", my Sister...Ehhh, you deserve so much better than anything thry could have said anyway...
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