Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Coffee
It's a work in progress,... I keep editing it, but here is the latest draft, which isn't too bad:
(Still untitled)
Morning sunlight reflects off windows, freshly washed
Spotless tables in a row, stand waiting.
Voices; laughing, talking, people sharing
Happiness is:
Hands wrapped around a hot mug
Feet slowly thawing,
Watching my children cheerfully wave
At people in cars lined up outside,
To buy a hot coffee on a cold winter day.
(Still untitled)
Morning sunlight reflects off windows, freshly washed
Spotless tables in a row, stand waiting.
Voices; laughing, talking, people sharing
Happiness is:
Hands wrapped around a hot mug
Feet slowly thawing,
Watching my children cheerfully wave
At people in cars lined up outside,
To buy a hot coffee on a cold winter day.
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2 comments:
Hey Jeanne, can I show this poem to some of my friends? There's a group of us that have a very well developed appreciation for coffee, and I think that they'd like it.
Stephen (your cousin)
Sure, no problem, go ahead. Rose Anne's poem is better than mine though, and it does mention coffee too... ha ha
I think I am getting addicted. It's like drugs, you start on pot, and then you move up to something stronger. I'm starting to get into espresso now...
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