Staring Into the Cup — a poem


Life is a cold brew — a sign
in the cafe that lists
options, suddenly becomes
prophetic.

Most of the time we allow
life to pour over us — steaming
hot messes, one follows
another — we await
stream to lessen to a drip.

The weight of the current
situation pulls us to the ground…

and the best we can hope for is decent coffee.

19 thoughts on “Staring Into the Cup — a poem

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