Email Poem

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Poem

she has a special magic 
or so it seems to me
in the early morning when i rise
i process the beans in the grinder
a short succession of tasks
the coffee is brewing
aroma of her hint of cinnamon
fills the kitchen
as i wait i look out the window
dawn has erased all the darkened shadows 
the flowers line the property's end
all are ready for the day
i speak their language, tell them to be patient
let me take her coffee and a pastry
she will be with you shortly
it is Saturday and your day with her
tomorrow is Sunday and i am whisking
her away on a picnic
she does this to me you know
everything she touches becomes family
we share conversations about her
the coffee pot is in its last gurgles
remember, cream, one lump i hear
apple turnover, warmed, buttered
the tray is now filled and ready
pushing me to a faster pace
i turn to the coffee pot, thank you
be right back for mine
as i disappear into the hallway
there is a last gurgle, you're welcome
she has a special magic, everything she touches
becomes family to me

   3/3/19   Kismet

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