Rummage and Cream

We celebrated on a ship abroad in a coffee shop. We took our order to go, the view of the street clear. The people smiled and adored their conversation. A debate of what to try. What to order. This delicious smell. Brewed dark, served light. Foam covered lips. A slited cap to release steam. And here we are merely afloat. We blend into the flavor. I don't think I'll find a place as great. An iceberg has sunken our ship. Stirred around until all has dissolved. This sailboat of ours coming to an end. Crashing against our lips. Directly against our tastebuds. With us the remains of sweet rummage and cream