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The Morning Coffee

February 21, 2011
By ni.bi.sche` SILVER, Tallahassee, Florida
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ni.bi.sche` SILVER, Tallahassee, Florida
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coffee
the swirls rise.
always slowly, no hurry

the languid spirals,
pressing fury deep into you,
as you sit
[not still, never still]

the spirals,
taunting you
with their rich scents,
and simple movements

and you've lost your mind.
the inner battle
with 'calm'
preaches only of insanity
to the self-contented
onlookers

what is anxiety,
to souls so untroubled
and blind?

they laugh
as you twitch

© Monica R., Stamford, CT

The author's comments:
this poem started as a very simple cinquain, which i soon elaborated into this poem. it connects to me, in ways, because i do get slightly anxious, but nothing near to that described in the peom.
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