My mother drank her coffee black,
Strong,
And only liked it when it was hot.
She would pour herself a ½ a cup at a time
So it wouldn’t get cold before she drank it.
She was a farm girl through and through
Right down to how strong she made her brew
Having passed away in the house she grew up in
The house her father passed away in years before
The house we grew up in
Everything about how she lived and died
Is reflected in how she drank her coffee
My mother was a strong woman
Half a cup tall
But she made up for her height in her bold personality.
She didn’t want or need all those fancy dressings
To make her sweeter or more palatable
She was just fine as she was
Natural
Her flavour was traditional
Without all the fixings
And if you didn’t like it,
That was fine with her
She didn’t need fake friendships
Anymore than her coffee needed fake flavours
I drink my coffee like my mother did
Black,
Strong,
And I only like it when it’s hot
When I walk through the door of my local coffee shop
All the baristas know my name and order by heart
‘Heart’
½ a cup,
Black,
No saucer,
No spoon
I drink my coffee like my mother did
My mother gave me many gifts throughout my life
How I drink my coffee being the least of them
From my love of words
To my love of life
I credit her with my love for animals
To garden fresh vegetables
To cooking and baking from scratch
And the importance of having a direct relationship to the foods we eat
Living simply
But the most important gift she ever gave me
Other than life itself
Was to know
That no matter what
I could always call home
And she would always be there to answer the phone
When I was about 13 years old
I was kicked out of a coffee shop for using too much cream and sugar
When I came home and told my mother
She told me that when she was young
Her mom bet her
She couldn’t go 1 month without anything in her coffee
She won that bet
And drank her coffee black ever since
And then she bet me I couldn’t go 2 months without anything in mine
I had to win that bet,
To show her
I drink my coffee like my mother did
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
This is an awesome poem on so many levels. As a poetry writer, son, and black coffee drinker
I was amazed at the simple way this poem flows, and how direct the comparisons are. I often
Think that black coffee will someday fuel the revolution, but for now it fuels the revolution in our
Music, minds, and hearts.
Kudos.
Thanks, I am glad it resonated with you so ‘strong’
I love this, Comrade. Much love to you.
brilliant!