My Affair with Coffee

I awaken a vagrant damsel in distress. The morning feels like sandpaper- its rough edges grating in my head, drying my eyes and leaving dust in my mouth. I tumble my habitual path to the kitchen with slushy feet and scribbled hair. I sense relief is near, hearing a gravely scoop of beans. A swish of water. Then the drip of awakening, the drop of stimulation, the drip and drop of coffee coming to my rescue. Drip, drop, like the clip clop of a white horse, my knight riding in. My eyes clear with visions of lucid brown liquid. My nose perks. My hair actually relaxes. One taste. One taste and my spirit rises like a champagne bubble. Coffee, my prince. It feels like love.

Comments

  1. Eric StearnsJanuary 20, 2010 at 2:39 PM

    Love that post! As a man, I sometimes feel as if the coffee is the love of my lover, coming to rescue me from the cliffs of my despair. I understand exactly what you mean. :-)

    ReplyDelete

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