My Worded Brew

Coffee’s aroma aids fingers in verse.

Comfort in strangers grants rhythmical thirst.

Typing or etching, I’m sipping a brew.

Without solvent my writings cease to ensue.

The grind of the moment embodied in art.

Coffee the drop for words to embark.

Mind with Grind
Mind with Grind

11 thoughts on “My Worded Brew

      1. Coffee is my elixir. Straight to the point, espresso not enough, I am still not content until I extract the soul out of it in not a single but a double ristretto, greedy as I am for its love. I’m a baristas muse.

        Liked by 1 person

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