The Dregs

An ode to coffee - one of my favorite things to do and drink.

The Dregs

I have come to the end of my cup.

I see the leavings and little bits of things

Lying against the sides and

In the pit of this porcelain pool.

 

I did not think that such things,

Like coffee grounds and fuzz,

Dwelled at the bottom of such

A divine and able vessel.

 

They cling desperately to every surface

As if begging not to be consumed.

But I am not tempted by the traces of

This once glorious beverage.

 

I don’t want them.

Nor do I need the dried trails

Of coffee.

 

I want something even greater than it’s predecessor

 

I want the sweet lazy sugar,

Slow to dissolve,

That still lingers in the basin

Simply waiting to be devoured.

 

I take out my spoon

As if to say,

“I am done and shall not have any more,”

Then I lunge.

 

And savor

The sweetest part of the cup,

The best and the last,

The Dregs.