morning coffee

It’s a quiet morning cup of coffee,
Paired with catching up conversation
About how a loved-one’s soul was set free
From the bounds of this earthly detention.
Our words hang in the air over the steam,
Avoiding any hint of causing pain
While inside we begging just to scream
About the suffering that still remains.
Instead we will talk about the weather,
Or the current condition of the state,
But this will not help the wounds get better,
Or give us cause to avoid our known fate.
I’ll just curl up around my cup of joe,
Leaving all these feelings no place to go.

Sunday’s Coffee

Today, there is no need for me to rush.
I’ll take advantage of this to move slow.
It may not mirror a life that is plush,
But too often these moments come and go
To be thrust back into a frantic pace.
I’ll stand at the window with my coffee,
Watching the sun climb in its morning race,
Knowing there is no place I need to be.
In a big city full of distraction,
Always begging for you to do something,
I will take the opposite reaction,
And fill up my schedule with nothing.
Tomorrow returns to reality;
Today I’m taking what’s in front of me.