Every morning I leave my coffee cup

on the kitchen counter, not quite empty.

The coffee waits there all day and all night.

The next morning he greets me like a lover.

“Nice to see you again too,” I say to him,

filling the kettle and placing it on a burner.

“Yes, we had something for a while,”

weighing the coffee beans to grind.

“Hard to believe it was only yesterday,”

grinding the beans very fine.

“You might still taste pretty good,”

spooning coffee into a filter cone.

“But you're a remnant of the past,”

excitedly feeling my kettle heat up.

“What I want now, you haven't got,”

pouring out water with an eager moan.

“So farewell, my friend, it's time for you to go,”

watching a steamy decoction stream from the cone.

I dump the dregs of the old one into the sink,

let the young one's fresh brew spurt into my cup,

and tell him "Lover, I am going to drink you all up!”

The comfort of cold coffee

is making another pot of hot.

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