Coffee cup
I can still taste the coffee on her lips
that was, for others, so repulsive a scent
but to me brought the light of day,
the light of life.
I still see the steam escaping the cup
enveloped in her sleeve drawn hands,
insulating the warmth of the morning;
this warmth in my heart.
I watch her, a waved strand of hair
falls loose before her eyes and shyness
overcomes, she pushes it back, smiles into her cup
and I smile into mine.
Her reflection tempts a sip of the bitter
beverage she loves so much, and prompts,
in me, a taste of the coffee,
the coffee on her lips.
24/08/2015