Liquid of the Gods (morning poem #1)

 
Quiet,
The silence foggy in my mind,
I stir,
I moan and roll over to the other side,
My eyes sting by the glare
The laptop just there,
Just before 8,
Urrgh i despair,
No I think i will arise a new,
Run downstairs and put the coffee on too,
Rinse out the cups,
Pet the cat good morning,
The kettle goes click with a broiling warning,
My shoulders untense,
This is where the best bit is,
Pouring out from my personal fountain of youth,
Water to the cafe-tier,
It mingles with the dirt coloured powered,
It clumps and separates,
Rising to the top as i once did,
A perfect café crème on top,
My hearts in love,
The smell won’t make it stop,
With patience i push the plunger in,
Like parting the sweet from the sin,
This dark liquid of the gods i pour in to my vessel,
Of red and shapely form,
And adorn with caramel colour sugar,
No milk,
No cream for me,
Just black, bold, deep, dark, sweet and strong,
I often wish a man like that would come along,
But for now the Liquid of the Gods will do,
For it is the Drink of Writers too.

Lauren Cullen

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