Java Java Java

My silent alarm, works every day.

Dreams of coffee wafting my way.

I get up quick to make water hot.

Then longingly watch the drips in the pot.

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When half way full the process proceeds.

The quest begins for the rest of my needs,

A big cup, of course, some sugar and cream.

And something to stir a new coffee dream.

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My brew perks away then perks me up.

There’s nothing better than a second cup.

To sip and to savor and share the sunrise.

The beauty’s doubled with wide open eyes.

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I think it’s the drink I drink the most,

Columbian, Sumatra or a dark French Roast.

Whole-bean or ground, instant or drip,

They all taste great from the very first sip.

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Winter hands on a hot mug are nice.

In the summer it’s refreshing with ice,

Or a flavorful syrup or tasty ice cream.

Chocolate covered beans, better than they’d seem.

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Coffee’s always dessert after desserts.

But it can stain teeth, pants and shirts.

A treat always perfect to end a long day,

A book, a snack and a decaf, my way.

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Huddled comfy in a favorite chair,

Sharing the quiet with a loved-one near.

Til pages blur and sleepy eyes meet,

Then goodnight kisses and a last sip that’s sweet.

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Scheduling Surprises

I enjoy getting up early to watch the sun rise.
I like to see the darkness turn to bright blue skies.
I try to write each morning when my head is truly clear.
The words come from someplace but I don’t know where.
~
I haven’t written a love poem since I don’t know when.
Of course I’m still in love, more than I was then.
But I can’t control my pencil, it might be controlling me.
Because when the paper fills, I can hardly wait to see.
~
I’m hoping for a love poem that I can share today.
I’ll wake my darling soon and “I love you” I will say.
I’d love to read her poem while she sips her morning brew.
And the kisses that come after is all I want to do.
~
Perhaps it’s just a phase or these crazy times we’re in.
But it seems like a long time since I made my sweetheart grin.
I see this page is filling and a love poem it’s not quite.
But there will be tomorrows, then a poem for her I’ll write.

~*~
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