A Morning Brew Poem by John Leroy Maxwell

The aroma of coffee, ever poured, never spilt..
Reaching myself to a cup, to extinguish the chill of torment,
underplaying while asleep.. But what do we do to dissolve
irrationality.. My own defective reasoning prevails..
A wreath of songs dangle from the lips that shall not sing..
Shall not sing of the light in hearts, nor the lights of minds..
No roses bloom, no dance steps taken.. Flowing pens create
lost memories before the day.. Lingering patches of verse
blinded.. Blinded by the fixed morally binding customs of
society.. Now standing akimbo, concerned with the practical
consequences of beliefs, filtering sounds now guide me
to the past.. But not so long ago.. Coffee as it were..
Consider the day..