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Stirrer

Updated on August 1, 2017

Coffee spilled
at the parchment
of fine verses and star-crossed promises.
(A dull, dreadful brown
drowning your name then mine)

The letters erode
in a deluge of caffeine
you mixed for me.

Like cursed sinners breached of their halos,
all the droplets escaped
from their mugged-up limbo
and left me lost.
(Blithely staring in the blank,
doomed, soaked and torn paper)

But with a pat,
with a kiss,
and with a hug
from a familiar stranger,
I am revived
to dream,
to a new promises,
to write in parchment afresh.

But before we rewrite history,
no more coffee, please.

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