Hey, My Coffee Girl Poem by AtreyaSarma Uppaluri

A peep through the window glass in that cold morning
At nine, showed an overnight snowfall…still blowing.
Across my mind the Maid of the Mist did unfurl;
She readily gave way to you, my own Dream Girl -
A thick wall of snow separating you and me.
Hey, my Dame dear, wake up and smell the coffee!

The snowstorm flinging the net into fritz to rue
A bright chance of a close video chat with you,
Came to a cold nought, oh my Flame, very afar.
The heat of passion burning in me with no bar
Seething, raging, scalding, so fiery, so aglow
Wished to melt down the screen of snow, in a jiffy.
Hey, my Dame dear, wake up and smell the coffee!

To pep up myself in that bad odd lovelorn mood,
I decanted and concocted my coffee good
And drew into my hand the large cup artistic
And sat down in my sofa, as a romantic.
There! A belle’s enamel on the china pretty!
Did it hot up my craving for you, my Sweetie?
Hey, my Dame dear, wake up and smell the coffee!

With the cup in my left hand, I passed my finger right
Through its curvaceous handle with a quaint delight.
Urged to feel the handle again for a highlight
Ah, what a sensation! What was it! Oh, Darling!
Was I your slim succulent love-handle fondling
So sinuously and sensuously wobbling
On the waist of your pear-shaped body, so oomphy.
Hey, my Dame dear, wake up and smell the coffee!

As I tilted the cup onto my lower lip
I began to savour the hot brew and its sip.
The rim of the cup: My Peach, did I your lip taste?
The rim’s other end: did it kiss my brow in zest?
Did your brows make a pact with mine, in a coy glee?
Hey, my Dame dear, wake up and smell the coffee!

Now my left palm under the cup: was it under your soft chin?
Was I caressing it and down, my graceful Lulu elfin?
Involuntarily, now my left hand half-circled the cup.
Did my left arm glide behind you and clasp you in a good loop,
Did then, my Baby, your throbbing bosom titillate and choke me?
Hey, my Dame dear, it’s time to wake up and smell the coffee!

The slurps that I was drinking in thirst copious:
Were they the tipsy juices from your lips rubious?
Did I wet your lips? And didn’t you wet back mine?
Did the juices spurt in on to my tongue like wine,
And slide down the throat to my heart, oh my Beauty?
Hey, my dame dear, wake up and smell the coffee!

The cup emptied, its inner walls smiled and sparkled.
Its glaze and glossiness: dreamily I recalled
The creamy suppleness, my Nymph, of your body,
So clear, naked, and entrancing, oh my lady!
Hey, my dame dear, wake up and smell the coffee!
Hey, my dame dear, wake up and smell the coffee!

[Dec 24,2009: : Lincoln, Ne, USA]