Who would’ve known
that my daily pain
would be found
in my morning coffee?
Each day, as I sip
and squint my eyes
from the rising steam,
the heat of our memories
burn my tongue.
You’d sit so patiently
as the gurgle echoed
in our morning brew
steamy, warm milk
I prepared the blend
catered to your palate,
brimming the mug
with strong and sweet.
I remember noticing
how we’d sip from our cups
simultaneously
and place them down
on the table, in sync —
an unrehearsed symphony.
I’d smile inside
and blush secretly
convinced of this clear sign
that we were meant to be,
my morning cup
my rising fix.
©2013 Liza Morales
Liza's Abode 