A ritual

Of my quiet mornings, 

you are ,coffee ,

the bitter solitude,

black inspired  expression, 

quick evasion, before returning 

 to the prison of  hours ,

coffee  sorcerer and my jailer ...

Flavour  of seasons ,that I glean

from the gaze of a girl  lost in life

that I love the instant of an atoll

somewhere in winter ...

Small faithful  coffee ,what's new ?

In front of a cup lmmersed 

in its  melancolia ,

Dr Freud makes an appointment 

with  anonymity ...

 Coffee ,my jolly  coffee ,

so desired ,and so quickly consumed ,

are you telling me the  truth ?

Augur in a porcelain cloud, 

aroma 's subtle  divinity ,

 tempo  di Roma ...

   what kind of interbreeding 

  is  my body made of  ?

Italian or African  seeds  ?

frenzied samba or sleepy  tambora ?

Coffee,your time-honoured ritual

makes me scorn the scents of Ceylon ...

And my day begins ,just as an empty mug

reminds me  of my  worries ...

I deposit my obolio in the neural system

of the smiling  high priestress ...

 See you tomorrow  kind genius  !