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Dear God, it’s late; the sun is up,
but I haven’t a clue where I put my cup.
You know my mind is there with it.
I’ll never get past the gear of “slow”;
my day will be ruined without my joe,
please help me find that damned cup.
Hot and fresh,
just the aroma alone
wakes me from my stupor
hey! there’s my cup, how super!
Grind the beans,
pour in the water;
now I’ll feel
precisely as I outta,
Forgive my language,
my temper, my smut,
but you know I’m a mess
till I’ve had my first cup.
Carolyn Brunelle
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