Bean Thinking.

My steaming black beauty, where have you gone?
Every shadowed morning, you would right wrongs,
Cold tears stretch from my bloodshot, sunken pupils,
Coffee is gone, and my pain is quadruple.

Each shitty morn you were there with my smoke,
Your sweet sugar words like I’m a top bloke,
She devils whisper ‘no Alex your health’,
Though they know not of enrichment or wealth.

Castrated, decaffeinated, I sit,
Surly time will cause the balance to tip,
Cheap imitations have no soul or art,
So forever you sit within my heart.

Here lies Douwe Edberts Pure Gold,
2010-2021

Bringer of qualifications, beloved by all,
“I gave my beans to those who gave up on me,
And warmly embraced those who clutch dead tea bags;
I did not hide my name from humiliation and spitting,”