Coffee House
He used to rise before I wakened,
to galvanize the coffee pot.
Then as enticing whiff assailed me,
he’d bring it to me strong and hot.
He knew my love for that dark brew
and how it helped me start my day.
I can taste it still, the one he brought
just hours before he went away.
Now that I have been left alone,
no one will bring it to my bed,
so it is set on auto time
to start it brewing now instead.
It is the one alarm I need
to waken me at morning’s dawn.
My memories help to sustain
and that rich brew still turns me on.
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