Love is like my morning coffee,
dark and deep, yet warm and cozy.
Steam that rises, a soft embrace,
a touch that lingers, in time and place.
First, the scent: rich, inviting,
like caring words with hearts igniting.
A gentle sip, a quiet thrill,
the kind that lingers, slow and still.
Too fast, too hot, it burns the tongue,
like passion’s fire when love is young.
Too cold, too late, and it will fade,
a bitter taste, a love mislaid.
And when it’s gone, the weight is real,
a sluggish step, a lifeless feel.
The world moves on, but not with me,
An exhausted soul, tired, unfree.
But coffee made with care, with grace,
it fills the soul, it sets the pace.
A steady hand, a patient art,
love, like coffee, warms the heart.
