Morning Coffee Poem by Ivan Donn Carswell

coffee’s a dream and warm
French bread compliments
where croissants will cloy a
sentiment already appraised
it is simplicity raised where
taste remains pure and origins
clear; no milk or sugar in the
cup, no jam or honey please

just a smear of butter to melt
of its own largesse on a bread
that gloats this early morning’s
pleasure – already I sink out of
sight on the scents, drown in
expressive benevolence
©7 Jan 2010, I. D. Carswell