O Coffee

O coffee, amber nectar, life, being,
Thou without whose presence I but seem dead
Brewed in kitchen cups to keep sleep fleeing,
Best black, slightly pale with milk, drunk from bed,
Warmest love! In this please be true. O thou
With steaming mugs of coffee in my bed,
The outside world seems cold, distant below,
The window, the street noise humming low, until
Our bodies cling to heat from cups, lips blow
Steam to lips blissful dreaming still, to fill
Mouths with sweets, "my love, pass the paper here."

With such lovely living this simple frill.
My wild spirit tamed at last here;
With coffee and paper; love, hear, oh hear!



Writing an ode to coffee is more difficult than it might seem!