The Quiet Scent of Morning

In the soft

awakening of the day,

coffee’s scent

found me –

subtle,

black.

Sugars.

I feel it fully,

in body

and every sense.

It brushes my nostrils,

touching my soul,

drawing me

from the warmth

of sleep.

Slowly,

I make my way down,

each foot kissed

by the chill of stone.

I step quietly

through the muted light.

Air drifts

through the space,

mingling with the scent,

curtains flutter

like quiet dancers.

Graceful joy rises

in my chest –

a fleeting whisper of being.

A deep breath rises;

clarity

in its wake.

I haven’t drunk coffee

for years.

The counter lies bare.

No coffee,

no cup,

no brewing-

only I remain,

in morning’s quiet.

The scent lingers -

a ghost,

alive and breathing

within me.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/cr7XwFT43M

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/EvDhtUbkJG