Mister Poem by Anthony Joseph Erangey

Should I add a bag, strung with name tag, boil water hot,
for the waiting mug?
Vanished days of ease, Ceylon black leaves, and brim full pots,
Saucers bone, tea cups.
I have a machine, Mister something, plastic black brew,
With clock and delay.
It doesn’t crush beans, from Juan Valdez, or from his crew,
Just grounds here, await.
Oh choice of the morn, with each day born, what shall I make,
To ease waking blues?
Mister or kettle, I must settle, much here at stake,
Which potion to choose?
With half opened eyes, I must decide, time fleeting fast
The day will not wait.
Buzzed Gods of caffeine, have intervened, the die is cast.
Mister, now my fate.