Ode to the Morning Cup – Poem by the Pesky Poet

No matter your poison,
And how you serve it,
The mind abounds,
Upon the first sip.
Whether it's a tea,
Black, white or sweet,
Or a dark coffee,
Or one with cream,
That first sip is supreme.
For some it's a shot,
For others it's a cup,
And those with mugs,
Cannot get enough.
The elixir of waking,
Is a gift with a warning,
Granting you alertness,
But only a half wakening,
A wakening that is cursed.
But still we celebrate,
The magic to caffeinate,
Without it's power,
The world would be dower.
Cradle that cup,
And give it a kiss,
Then take a sip,
Saver the warmth,
As it passes your lips.

©The Pesky Poet

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