Val Morehouse

Coffee

Bare feet carry that first cup of
morning to you full of night’s
disagreement black and
bitter without sweet apology.

That is the way it should be.
Truth that you drink in and return to
me empty of sleep’s confusion,
but filled with possibility,

it’s steam evaporated by the sweat
of forgiveness worked smooth
as new bread that bubbles and rises,
cupping the darkness inside its white gift.

Poem Submitted: Saturday, October 24, 2009

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Comments about Coffee by Val Morehouse

  • Sandra Fowler (10/25/2009 4:18:00 PM)

    Wonderful use of metaphor in the second stanza, particularly.
    I like what you see through the poetry panes of your soul.

    Love,

    Sandra

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