She makes a lovely cup of coffee, does the lass.

Sweet as honey, rich with Carnation cream.

My time is short but I’ll keep that warm memory

held close, golden taste against the cold.

Each sip scalding on my tongue,

burning down my eager throat.

Each taste jerks a hidden thought,

living behind my eyes, deep in my mind.

 
 

David Garlick, Victoria, June, 1996