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.
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.
ReplyDeleteStephen (your cousin)
Sure, no problem, go ahead. Rose Anne's poem is better than mine though, and it does mention coffee too... ha ha
ReplyDeleteI 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...