Pour into me
that bittersweet liquid of pain
pour it like in storm sky pours rain.
Pour to ease the ache
that is my throat to overtake
as without my bitter drink
my mind is not to think.
Not properly at least
without that dark beast
of blackish brown grains
mashed until powder remains
with its magical taste of forbearance
for it brings peace and patience
for it helps to ease the stress
and relax, forgetting all that mess
for it is a cure for soul
a trickle in endless bowl
filled with emotions of joy and hope
which can only be sought, left to grope.
A coffee liquid of vigour and might,
the one to help you in your fight,
the one to make you last a day,
for without it you're just astray.
Someone without ability to follow
for any path seems so hollow
and impassable and unknown
obscure, dark and lone.
Without coffee life just is plain.
Who'd tell that such a small grain
could bring so much distaste and pain
if not taken it adds to strain.
Coffee is something that