CoffeeA Poem by Butch Decatoria
It's a Kuerig
Not a cure all. Since every workday morning I have mistaken as weekends Like those Indian summers At nine Over-sleeping-in My little white pillow cloud I piggy back rode Since then mistaken my dreaming For Heaven (in the Nth) Far from myself. Here now. MidLife. How dark roasts have that So similar in aroma Bitterness And caustic ash After Taste. Instant is cheap. Coffee. © 2016 Butch Decatoria |
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1 Review Added on September 20, 2016 Last Updated on September 20, 2016 AuthorButch DecatoriaLas Vegas, NVAbout"I cannot wait to see tomorrow, but I will live like--I just couldn't wait!" --yours truly "In The Church of (My) Life, Love is Worship" -- yours truly Lets101 Quizzes - Fun quizzes for blog .. more..Writing
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