Coffee

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 14, 2016

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Submitted: June 14, 2016

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 Coffee

Fingertips tip-toeing on the bright glass cup
Air sofly blowing through the hot foam topped up
Lips lipped lightly onto the white hot rim
slow tilts bringing the liquid to them on a whim

To It's hot touch the pink buds swell
Sour at first, As it casts its spell
Blood warms up, the eyes grow low
The face feels Crimson, Time feels slow
The world goes distant, And the heart beats sound
As it goes down, You want another round

Nostalgia Strikes
you are somewhere else
Lost in the swirling overpowering smells
Drawn away then, Drawn back now,when You tilt again
You sense the awareness of yours drain again

Careful now, it rises too high
Tounge burnt, the pink buds cry
But it would be sad now to stop the fingertips
The cup of the sour brought again, to the awating lips

It was a nice trip, to the inside
Now to continue on with your life
The fingers set the ceramic cup back
The remaining Dregs of coffee, the lips then smack.


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