The Fragrance of Coffee is Dark

It is again Wednesday night,
our meeting 4pm.
The time is just right for another
hot mug with a diadem.

As usual I sit beside you.
I like your attention.
The fragrance of this coffee is dark.
I'm lost in confusion.

I find I'm drawn to your aroma –
powerful sensation.
The color of this coffee is deep.
I fall in elation.

I sense your brown eyes on me but
never meeting my own.
My coffee swirls around and around,
I fear I'm in delusion.

And why are your words to me sparse,
diplomat well-known?
The taste of this coffee is stark.
I drink in bitter passion.

So come the dreaded 6:40,
our timed depart again.
I leave the class, my thoughts empty,
empty mug in hand.


( Afterthoughts... )