Coffee

My coffee chides me
a kind of motherly triviality
as if I was born
to see caffeine
as a lullaby

Piano sounds on the earphones
and mind drifts
to the childhood
of glasses of milk,
bland omelettes,
ophthalmological problems and power cuts

old houses of memories
of Eastman color frames
pale sunlight
and now,
the coffee

coffee is a healer
from blind dates
to old age cynicism
it seems like acting on some nerves
even though I may love
the capabilities or the taste of the tea
coffee reminds me I am getting
older and crispier

the rustiness of my affair
with this brown drink
tunes me inside somewhere
the dark clouds outside the windowsill
and the coffee starts
melting me
within