Coffee DripĀ 

Coffee Drip 

i started drinking coffee when i was ten years old. my mother never liked the idea. looking back, i now realize how horrible she must have felt for seeing her ten-year-old daughter obsessed with coffee.

she lectured me about the effects of coffee on our bodies and how bad it could be. (of course, again, i know that now.) she even used to joke about me not getting taller if i didn’t stop consuming coffee. (of course, again, i think she was right all along.) there was nothing my mom could do at that time, though. 

and i am not talking about blended coffees which we can now get at some fancy coffee shops. no, not your usual Starbucks caramel macchiato, white mocha, or cafe latte. i don’t remember having Starbucks growing up. it wasn’t a thing then. i meant the black espresso, a single shot with no sugar. 

coffee time with my papa was always special. i’d watched him brew coffee using one of the oldest, simplest, fastest, and cheapest ways: the drip method. with the use coffee cone and paper filter, hot water is poured evenly over the coffee grounds in a paper filter. and with gravity, the brewed coffee drips slowly and directly into a cup or pot.

i’d carefully and slowly watch the coffee drip onto the transparent coffee mug my papa and i used to share.

it was a sight to behold. one of my greatest joys growing up. 

coffee time with my papa was always special; today, it is extra special. 

i am seated at my working table, finishing writing the epilogue of my soon-to-be-released book, remembering my papa.

my coffee is now ready, single-shot espresso, no sugar. as i take my first sip, i feel a sudden gust of wind.

my papa’s voice lingers in my head.

“one day, when you are grown up, and i will be gone, you will prepare your coffee drip; remember that each drip is each of my standing ovation for you, ‘cos i am sure by then, you have already made your dreams come true.”

written for Reena’s Exploration Challenge

This week’s prompt challenge is a short video:

I Hope You Remember

I Hope You Remember

i hope you remember the smell of the roasted coffee
in our favorite place
where millions and millions of stories from miles and miles away
where connected and bridged together over a single shot americano
and you with your favorite cafe latte overloaded with sugar
i hope you remember how our stories made coffee time
not just incredible but one hell of a kind.

i hope you remember the first coffee drive-thru we had
with me over the cloud and over the moon, trying to grasp
the feeling of finally being seated right next to you after years
and you are speechless for the first time in your life, maybe
and you can’t take your eyes off me.

i hope you remember the countless times we made our coffee cold
with me over my endless out-of-this-world story-telling spree
and you couldn’t stop laughing at all of my epic fails
which i graciously claimed to have handled so well with pride
but you’d refute it by saying, ’twas funny but humiliating.

i hope you remember how we bonded over that sweet, nutty aroma smell
with me proudly proclaiming i could live with coffee and coffee alone
and you looking disgusted and disappointed ‘cos you’d rather hear me say
i could live with you and you alone.

i hope you remember, ‘cos i will always
remember us that way
the smile, the laughter, the tears, the longing, the wanting
the passion, the love, and the hope for forever
i will always remember us that way.

for Sadje’s WDYS

Coffee Love

from the night i slept

to the morn’ of your beauty

where night and day met

the sun shines with its glory

in your arms sun’ s brighter dear

the day will begin

with a loving thought ’bout you

coffee blended love

that’s how we are my dearest

lost without the caffeine kick

Today’s poem is from my book “What If Snowflakes Don’t Fall In Winter?”

Ebook copy available via KOBO.COM

for the paperback copy visit my FB page Poetry by Mich