o my beans of green
o my beans of brown
these are
coffee days
am I the master
or the slave
I turn you on the flame
I
make you change
but should I miss
a roasting
day
I
am a devastation
o my browning greens
o aromatic wonders
I turn you
round and round
that you should not burn
your oil lingers
fragrant
on my fingertips
the essence of you
is everywhere
and I
am the one consumed
© Frank Prem, 2017
Poem #16: line dancers
220418
Frank Prem Poetry 
Gracious, it’s like you’re writing “50 Shades of Green and Brown”!
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Well, if you’re serious about your coffee, it’s a rather sensual experience, no?
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Lol, omigosh, one would think the first sip of my favorite java each morn was being administered by Colin Firth himself! I quite understand!!
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Worth savoring!
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Agreed!
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Reblogged this on O LADO ESCURO DA LUA.
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Thanks Luiz.
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ahhh the slow dance of the roasting toasting warmth …. well done Frank 🙂
(more’s the pity but God how I hate coffee – and yes, I still drink it. )
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YOu must be drinking bad brew Pat.
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nope …. it goes way back to the follies of youth when trying to make ends meet and taking on the world meant smokes and coffee as fuel …. high stress and anxiety and I ended up with an ulcer …. so, on the whole, I’m not a fan of the rust bucket brew.
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good recycle, can smell it from here!
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It’s a fun thing to do.
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I bet!
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