A Poem About Coffee

One day

I will be the proud owner of a coffee machine-

It may only be a dream for now

but one day

I will achieve the perfect frothy layer,

the god of lattes

descended from Olympus.

An arabica ambrosia,

no scolded tongue

or luke warm, lily-liver’d

excuse of an americano-

think west end-

an ovation worthy beverage

executed like a well drilled script.

my mum makes me coffee-

Lidl’s best take on nestcafe,

water blessed from the silver kettle,

just the right amount of sugar

added in a rush, unscripted,

amongst a flurry of tea towels

plates and cutlery.

juggled like at a pantomime

yet always seamless,

ovation winning every time.

one day,

I will be the proud owner of a coffee machine.

Not yet.