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Coffee
by Richard VinceIt began and ended with coffee:
The first I made, the second
She bought.
There were nerves, there were
Confessions, there were bad
Decisions; there were continuations
Where there should have been
Endings.
When we believe our own
Mythology, we begin to
Lose track of reality, choosing
Instead to inhabit worlds
We only imagine.
We ourselves become works
Of fiction, idealised, carefully
Crafted to fit
A two dimensional space.
What does not fit in the box
Is left to grow, unseen,
Unchecked, until its roots
Crack our foundations and
We are left in ruins.
It began and ended with coffee,
But the end was only
The beginning of the end;
The start of a collapse so slow
We didn’t see it happening.
05/14/2018 Posted on 06/07/2018
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 06/09/18 at 03:09 PM That third stanza captured me - in more ways than one, Richard. You describe with such delightful poetry this coffee encounter. Thank you.
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| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/10/18 at 10:35 PM Profound literary rendering, Richard. Impressive capture of relationship. |
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