Another cup of coffee
sits in front of me
on the table
with its rich, dark, silky
look drawing
me in again,
the steam rolling off
like the call of
sirens to sailors,
and the taste like
nostalgia in embrace
with a good day ahead,
the dark brew reflecting a smile
instead of the murky
concoctions of sugars and cream,
and I know you can’t see peace
but for a moment
–just that tiny,
ever lingering
moment
in the morning–
I can taste it here
in the cup that
sits in front of me
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