Grind

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. 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s