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Coffee
An object warm and white,
Cup-like with a handle at its side.
Halfway filled with a liquid,
A liquid with a name,
Its name being coffee.
Eager am I to hold this cup,
Equally eager am I to drink
From its rim which my lips shall touch.
Slowly yet quickly I do tilt the cup
And the liquid pours into my mouth.
The liquid's bitter taste,
Yet sweet and warm it is.
Satisfying is the taste,
So gleefully I do drink more
And indulge myself in this sweet galore.
Freely does the liquid
Move around in my mouth
As it plays with my tongue
Tickling its taste-buds.
Around and between my teeth it goes
'til I move it back with my tongue
To the back of my mouth
Where the coffee meets its doom.
Down my throat it goes,
The aftertaste the same as before.
My thirst craves evermore,
Thus I drink some more.
