Little pleasure of a delicacy,
reminds me of the past tense;
the mere thought of its efficacy,
fills glee in abundance.
Every sip is an oceanic fun,
freshness refreshed, mind expand;
It is my drink, my possessive one,
it is the coffee from my land.
I get bemused, lost sometime,
in questions of unanswered science;
I sip a coffee in its prime,
to see the words of missing lines.
Aroma is the master,
controls the sense as a slave;
drives the thought faster,
breaking the mystic enclave.
Come what may, snow or sun,
it is difficult temptation to stand;
It is my drink, my possessive one,
it is the coffee from my land.
good one pavan.... :) are you missing it?
ReplyDeletewell, i do miss coffee very much, especially from malleshwaram Janata hotel, CTR, Vidyarthi bhavan, and of course IISc coffee house.....
ReplyDeletehope there will be a coffee rain here some day !
That would be a welcome change and people would call that a miracle !!!!!
ReplyDelete@Scavenger: what will be a welcome change, rain or missing ??
ReplyDeleteCoffee Rain !!!!
ReplyDeleteJust loved it! I actually drank a cuppa coffee after reading this :-)
ReplyDelete