Morning Coffee

It was Saturday morning.
Rise and sunshine had just arised.
And you slowly wake up,shaking off the drowsiness.

You go to your handy coffee maker machine.
To give you the energy you need to start.
You brew the coffee.

In a mug,colored in black.
The mug steams from the drink itself.
Dances like a ballerina on a shelf.

You take a sip,and then another.
It’s still morning,so why bother?
Hair still messy,pajamas attire.

drinking your coffee near the fire.
You slowly regain your energy again.
To start a busy day once again.

The coffee is not to blame,that you have a lot of work to do.
But you have no other choice,too.
For now,enjoy a warm,dark coffee.

And enjoy the morning under the sunrays so fine.
And time quickly passed and chime.
I know this poem may seem bland to you.

But it’s all I came up with through.
A coffee mug steams in your hands.
And soon you’ll make amends and plans.

Will you go outside and take a stroll?
Will you play a game,be on a roll?
Now,the coffee tastes so rich.

A flavour you would never ditch.
You don’t have to be poor or rich.
To enjoy a coffee with a hitch.

A cup of coffee fills me up.
I tell that to myself,but is it the truth?
When the morning comes,I notice the birds singing.

Sun goes up and the sunshine’s upbringing.
Sometimes it misses the moon.
But I know it’ll be night soon.

On days when it’s dark and gloomy.
A cup of coffee sees right through me.
And the flavour oh so rich.

The sun and moon,I’d never ditch.
In dark,gloomy days.
I go to them and I feel better.

As time sways.
And music softly plays.
Drink a morning coffee with me.

And the flavour will set you free.
Now I better sleep,I’ll let you be.