{Burnt Coffee #3}


Left from the morning

deserted and singed

once a rich brown

with a wafting aroma

now a tawny puddle

a forgotten beverage.

I made it to warm me

jolt me

but it served its purpose

so I leave it,

in the bottom of a mug

In the pot on the counter

A pitiful pond of brown

without enough volume to

protect itself from the scorching heat.

I could have turned the machine off

could have poured it down the drain

Instead of leaving this shallow puddle

to become bitter with neglect

left in the eager hope

that I’d come back to finish what I brewed.

It’s too late now

No matter how much cream and sugar

I pile into this bitter dram

I cannot soften the acid

Of burnt coffee.


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