Original 10/05/2020, Edited 12/05/2021
There’s no dull background noise;
Everything sits in the small foreground.
The music; curated for a young child,
Is as conducive to creative writing as
Feeding a lazy dog all of my pens
And burning each of my notebooks.
This room knows my name,
Yet insists on calling me mother
At every conceivable moment;
At each attempt to concentrate
On putting pen to digital paper.
Although, I’m not being charged extra
For dairy-free milk and chocolate syrup.
Do you still smell the same?
Intoxicating and inviting.
Being wrapped in your arms,
Would leave me drunk off desire,
Do you still taste the same?
Rich, and melting in my lustful mouth,
Like freshly pressed coffee,
And sweet fragrant vanilla.
Do you still feel the same?
Would your touch leave me trembling again?
Would my hands still know you?
Grip you tight in ecstasy.
Come on in.
Ah, coffee, good choice.
I'll just top up the cafetiere.
Serve you but little justice,
Is in the eyes,
Not the red reflection.
And the level of ease,
The flow of conversation,
Over a coffee,
I learned you,
Realized your significance,
The role you play,
In my small life.
The options you open,
The knowledge you offer.
Over a simple coffee,
Enjoyed the bliss,
Of casual conversation