Barista Poem by Za7ra Sulaiman

I'll always be the barista, giving away every cup,
Ones destined for other hands, ones never meant for mine.
I pour the rich, aromatic brew, my heart held up,
Watching as strangers take a sip, their smiles intertwine.

The warmth of the ceramic, the steam that dances high,
Brings a fleeting moment of joy to each passerby.
But as I hand them their drink, a part of me yearns to try,
To taste the blend that I so carefully designed.

Yet, I know my role is not to indulge, but to serve,
To bring a small respite to those whose days may be hard.
So I watch them leave, my own desires submerged,
Content in the knowledge that I played my part.

I'll always be the barista, giving away every cup,
Ones destined for other hands, ones never meant for mine.
For in this role, I find a purpose that lifts me up,
Knowing that my coffee brings a moment of peace divine.

Though the cup may never reach my own eager lips,
The satisfaction I feel is one that never slips.
For in these fleeting encounters, a connection is born,
And I am honored to be the one who helps the day be reborn.

So I'll continue to pour, to share, to give away,
Knowing that my coffee's magic can brighten someone's day.
I'll always be the barista, content in this role,
Pouring out my heart, one cup at a time, to nourish each soul.