Poetry about coffee?

How an alcoholic goes to a pub, I go a coffee shop.

the only place where I feel completely comfortable to sit by myself, sip my coffee and mind my own business.

The hustle of bustle of people entering and leaving, the sounds of trays and plates clattering.. tea spoons tinkling against cups. It’s all very comforting to hear. 

Coffee is my saviour. There’s a coffee for every mood. Espressos are there for those mornings where I feel lifeless.Flat whites are needed before lectures. Cappuccinos go well with friends and I guess … tea is there for when you need to relax. Decaf is an option too, but it’s not one I take. What is the point in decaffeinated coffee, it defeats the very purpose of coffee.

How am I sitting in a coffee shop talking about coffee, clearly I’m very bored and this what I do to pass the time? Procrastination at its finest.

I can’t even remember what time I went on break. Shit. Am I late?

I was sitting on my lunch break and I guess my fingers started typing away, when I read over this in the evening, it sounded like poetry.

Thanks for reading!

Nisha x

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