A Cup of Coffee
It was something like night time;
half past nine o'clock and fully dark--
I remember how the winds blew,
the trees outside shook with winter
and it was cold for quite a while--
I watched how the frost nibbled
at the oncoming guests, none alike,
holding onto their gifts so proudly--
I wonder, what was even so important
that they would wade through snow?
The smell of grandma's home brew,
put my mind at ease, never bitter--
never once bitter, or too strong,
or too mild, it was as if she knew--
the troubles I would endure.
All my cousins, and their cousins,
uncles, aunts, nephews and nieces,
three and four generations together--
dishes and furniture would break
and all together, a hypocritical chant.
These pretenders and false believers,
like vultures that glide for a meal--
I shake my head, my hands tremble,
I long for rest though it is hours away,
another piece of cake and a smile.
Another sip of the Colombian blend,
the taste is sweet, my throat, soothing--
my lips feel honest and serene,
nothing can take this from me--
no, not even this empty crowd.
There is a great deal to speak of,
judgement is passed with the salt--
I do not wish to hear their voices,
for their problems are all my fault--
and I, must seal up like a vault,
more ripples in my cup of coffee...
Copyright © Marcello Colasurdo | Year Posted 2010
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment