Poetry: ‘Coffee of the Day’
There is a stain of brown
on the floor, over there.
Look closely and see,
streaks of what made it out to be
anything but a stain of brown
on the floor, over there.
Not long before the stain,
It was a cherry of desire.
He knew it contained
all that He aspired to be,
red and ripe and raving, pick me!
He ripped its skin,
coaxed out its core,
choked it with fire until it
cracked once, then once more.
Glistening with the colour of earth,
He let it breathe; for a moment.
Then with pressure and powerful grate
He ground it, crushed it, released
its breath from within and
drowned it. Drenched too, He
watched: with water it was whole
and clean. Touch, taste, scent and sound
pouring out; better than ever Bean.
And after toasting,
He would rest—
until by a reason unfair,
it fell in a stain,
over there.
-2_600_375_s_c1.png)
