True Love of Coffee

LoL, It really isn’t a bitter year! This is just poetry for the day. I’m laughing I wrote this when I’m having such a good morning!

************************************
A Bitter Year   *************************

Crimson wine I ask, as my hands tremble,
Trying to feverishly hold to delicate thoughts,
As my body grows cold and my heart numb
I hear whispers against the chime of the church bell.
I simply realize that my faith transcends the flavour.

The spirit of the effort I think, a pale offering of such struggle.
I wonder if the taste is that of oak, or weak like flawed timber.
The kind of misunderstood growth one finds when struck with despair,
the entropy we all find when our lives begin to dissolve,
yet the reflection of my eyes is lost as my hope spills on the floor.

I try to hold onto my failing, rather than accept that I have changed.
Somewhere within life, my heart has turned black, something went wrong.
The poisoned grape that tarnished such a wonderful vintage.
Yet the bitter aroma of which I breathe seems desecrated,
a reminder that perfect things can often turn sour if uncared for

I reach for another bottle, slowly pulling it from amongst its brethren.
Fumbling my words, if not my thoughts, again and again,
as I harshly lecture myself and every action I have ever taken.
Such a fool, such an idiot you are, how naive can one person be…
Why would I ever believe that I could share such a taste with anyone?

This entry was posted on Monday, November 6th, 2006 at 10:11 pm and is filed under Coffee - Volume Two, Inquisitive, Loss. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.