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My Coffee Shop

Coffee! This one is a little different in style from most of my typical poetry. I find that I prefer writing poetry that is vague and almost abstract in nature. This one, however, is quite the opposite. A narrative piece that's all about my self-professed love for coffee, this poem is probably fairly relatable to many of us.


For some, coffee is just part of a daily routine. A way to get the day started and give oneself a jolt of energy. For myself and for many other caffeine connoisseurs, it's much more than that. Coffee is an experience, a belief, and indeed, a way of life. Personally, I love it.


Actor Hugh Laurie sums up my feelings towards coffee pretty much perfectly:


"I am a coffee fanatic. Once you go to proper coffee, you can't go back. You cannot go back"

I honestly could not think of a better way to express my love for coffee than poetry. Such a magical substance only deserves a proper tribute that is worthy of its otherworldly charm. I hope my fellow coffee enthusiasts enjoy this one! Do feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below.

 
A Photo Of Drip Coffee Being Made

My coffee shop

Caresses my feet

In fluffy cotton waves

As I drown and

I drown and my soul drowns

In the blankety goodness

Of Saturday dawns

And Saturday tunes,

Saturday evenings

And Saturday noons.


My coffee shop

Comes to life when I do –

As my body dances

Into and out of Gravity’s embrace –

My feet hit the floor

And the coffee shop

Opens its door –


Artificial light slaps my face

As my languorous limbs

Desperately cling

To my sad excuse for a mug –

My feet waltz to the machine

At effervescent snail’s pace

For my daily caffeinated morning hug –


I pop and chop and change

And wait

For the enchanted apparatus to

Sing and hum and purr

The tune of my daily morning magic,

The absence of which would be

Oh so tragic –


I wait and watch and wait

And listen

To the all too familiar melody –

A complex waltz of aromatics

With pops of Flamenco and honey –


I gently hold

My mug and I drool

At the sight of this

Golden, liquid jewel –

I reverently sip and swill with skill

And contemplate a twenty-seventh refill –


The coffee shop is open,

And life has begun.




© 2020 Shreya Venkataraghavan

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