A Sweet Latte waits for me
Hello beautiful
Decadent aroma hanging in the air
Hot vessel in my hand warming me
My fingers fumble in their haste
Hot sweet milk dripping down my arm
Drip, drop, dripping like tears down a face
Latte turns and bleats at me
And wonders, will I ever
Figure out how to milk her right?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem