coffee – Dawn Marie Paul Art & Books

Boston Stoker

The scent of grinding beans attacks packed tobacco chilling. No smoking in the shop, though drinks sit near people steaming. Smoke wafts in from outside, invading coffee’s foaming. Which is the bitter, can you smell the difference?

Caffeine

I wake in the dark read poetry by phone light that was no decaf.

Coffee at the Book Store

Oh lush mocha rolling down my throat warming my belly like an indoor coat. No added sweetener or cream is needed, as the pure chocolate balm soothes the inner me.