A morning, winter light pierces darkness taps me on the face.
The roar of snoring from another room echoes in my ears as if a seashell held up to listen. I rise at 7:40 am for the day.
Thoughts of coffee pique the imagination of my nose. Ah, a coffee pot beckons with promise. Soon the nose is captivated by the aroma of brew.
A sip before the day begins, I sigh.
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Author:
JDB (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 7th, 2024 09:05
- Comment from author about the poem: From my morning log.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 32
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments4
I feel the gravity of your heart in your exhale.
That is what I was going for. Thank you for your feedback.
Very lovely and beautifully rendered with perfect ambiance and a charming poignancy, the superb imagery taking it over the top, above and beyond. Thank you for sharing.
And thank you for your comments.
I’m not a coffee drinker Thoughtless but my granddaughter Beth can’t function without her first fix of the black stuff. By the time she’s finished the second, she is ready to face the world. This write was very visual and although I don’t drink coffee, I do love its aroma. I heard the sigh.
Another very good interpretation of the poem. It has more than one meaning. Thanks.
I enjoyed the read, nicely written poem, thank you
Thank you for your kind words.
You are very welcome
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