Smashed on a white-hot-press,

Busted bean endures the stress,

Tempered in a twirling fray, 

Beat to dust, but not gone away. 

Poured over a blistering blaze, 
Mixed, churned in a blurry daze. 

Steaming up with coiled heat,

Waiting to steep–a morning treat. 

Liquid rich and pouring down, 
The goblet rich with brewed renown,

Who’s bite and sigh is worth the wait, 

Old is the cause to anticipate,

Every moment a new delight,

But it might just keep you up all night.