Coffee
Coffee
By Dane Smith-Johnsen
To and fro, on aromas’ lips.
Downtown fragrance of coffee grew.
It smelled like my grandmother’s brew.
The giant lit up cup’s bright drip.
Back as far as I remember.
Unforgettable morning whiff
On the wings of fresh air did drift.
From December to December-
Slow inhaling intrinsic fun.
Breathing deeply, no children’s drink.
Day by day indelibly linked.
The smell of coffee beans had won.
We moved away for many years.
That fragrance no longer enjoyed.
The morning air seemed to be void.
On Grandma's wings: years’ joyful tears.
Writen for:
Brian Strand's
Indellible Impressions Contest.
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