Poetry

Spooktown, 20 (294.)

The coffee sits and haunts
my tender stomach,
and I know
I’ll go sit elsewhere soon.
My cat wonders what’s in the cup,
but I fear it’s too bitter
for her delicate tongue.
So I let her wonder, and I
scratch her adorable beautiful head,
and I keep sipping caffeine.
Work can wait
a little longer.

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