Ode to Coffee

 Some mornings,

The sun lingers too low

Behind decrepit brick walls

That block those gorgeous rays

From falling on my face.

Some mornings,

The water falls cold from the faucet,

And chills my skin without mercy,

Until muscles clench tightly,

Around stiff bones that will never thaw.

On those dreadful mornings,

Relief comes from that bitter aroma,

And warmth unclenches the muscle from the bone,

As that dark elixir hastens my relief,

At last the chill flees my skin,

And the sun emerges from behind the brick.