A Morning’s Essence
If you sold your soul for a dollar, I'd consider that a bit pricey...
For it was the lack of takers that had led me to believe
I would find you somewhere around the realm of free.
You, like a single cup of cold coffee at the corner diner-
In New York City, perhaps!
So meticulously created,
So carefully brewed by tired hands and bodies at the crack of dawn,
Fine and dandy and delicious and creamed up and sugared up-
All of it,
All of that, this glorious nonsense that led you to being
So, truly, I am sorry, because I do desire my coffee warm-
However if it's free, I'll drink it cold.