Dec 20, 20251 min read
Coffee
I was found on quiet hill, Where ghost ran, wild, and time stood still. A boy saw berries, red, and bright He tasted on his heart, felt right. They burned my beans, not knowing me But smelled my throat and rising steam. They brewed me soft they brewed me strong And passed me gently all along. I crossed the sea and steady waves To lands, where monks would sit and pray. This sipped me slow through nights and days And found in me a kind of stay. In towns and streets, I made my n