Morning Coffee-Poem

by Samuel De Lemos

I wake up,
stretch and yawn.
It’s dark outside.
I can hear distant
cars already whizzing by.
I force myself to get out of bed
like Lazarus’
suddenly interrupted
eternal sleep.

I fumble downstairs,
steadied by the
smooth banister.
I fill the tea kettle
with cold tap water
click the gas burner
on high
and patiently wait.

The whistle startles my
morning thoughts
I turn them both off
counter clockwise.
The dry coffee grounds
anticipate their
steaming hot libation.

The aroma of morning pierces
the shroud of dawn’s darkness
As I pour the ancient concoction
into my mug.

The hot liquid
rises to the top.
It’s mesmerizing.
An aesthetic contrast
between two opposing colors
Black coffee and white cup.
I add milk,
sugar,
and stir
the liquid turns
to caramel—its
ready to partake, so
I raise it to my lips
close my eyes
and swallow.

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