Cuppa Poem by inris nas

To my daily cup of Filter Coffee

I am sure of one thing,
its definitely a true love, not a fling
though it takes a life to confirm,
but not with my cuppa-ling


when forced to break the bed charm by the wicked alarm
am usually grumpy, up my arm, ready to harm

but thought of it gives me a reason to smile,

Make no mistake it comes in various hues and tastes
some take it seemingly in leisure and some in haste

those who fall for the instant version should mind
not always the end matters, but the grind

its the ritual which makes the perfect blend
percolation, the true essence, of beginning, of end
measured quanta of crushed beans and then the hot water
the ensuing smell, omen for something better

Aroma, the purest of all,
smell of mother earth after the first rainfall

by this time am in a trance, and the taste oomaah so divine
its you who eggs me to go on, oh the wonderful CUPPA of mine

a word of caution though to all
If you fell for it,
believe me you would have lost it all