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
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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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