to the dreamers

an ode to coffee

yes i am a caffeine addict...

---

the brightness of the

morning light

is somewhat dimmed

to your dull senses

your feet hit the floor

but you don't really feel it

a few more steps to the

front door

the crisp air

whips your face

stinging strands of hair

lash at you

as you wander across sidewalks

you've passed over

a hundred million times

the bell dings

as you step inside

warmth engulfs you

but you barely notice

all you can focus on is the

smell

bitter yet sweet

cinnamon intertwined

with the almost-tangible

tendrils

of coffee-infused air

"a latte to go, please"

the jingle of coins as you

fumble for the

exact change

a foamy mustache on your

upper lip

as you half-walk, half-run

from the little shop

your hands warmed

by the cup

cradled between them

sometimes it's

icy cold

but on winter mornings

and autumn afternoons

it burns as it

trickles down your

throat

the consistency of

sweat

on your brow

in the summertime

if you imbued it with

sugar

everything seems

so much

brighter

it's like seeing a

black and white film

and then seeing

color

the aftertaste

lingers on your tongue

not unpleasant

in the least

as you stare

into the foamy

depths

of your mug

that you couldn't quite

reach

you feel an odd sort of

loss

as though the

wholeness

the completeness

you felt

was merely for as long

as you had your

coffee