Coffee

After the boil you wait. Then you pour.
Then you wait again. Three minutes.
And then you press down.
Slowly.

Each morning, I serve myself
a cup of coffee. I smile for my master
who is so free, almost like me

We both saw a full moon last night
and she turned us into a long shadow
so beautiful that I wanted
to dance for it

My master told me: No.
But I danced. Slowly.
It felt like coffee.

Coffee was originally published on Meandering home

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Published by

Kamiel Choi

Dutch philosopher and poet, sometimes sharing thoughts on the internet.

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