My Mug is Half Full
It is half past three and I have finally reached my home
I cannot wait to relieve my arms of the duty of carrying this tome
I walk into the kitchen, dragging my leaden feet
I see my mother, whom I have barely enough energy to greet
The only thing I have in mind is that sleek, black machine
The god-given grinder of the coffee bean
It is the divine bringer of life, the only thing that can clear my mind's haze
It never fails to give me hope, just the sight of it sets my heart ablaze
I press the silver button and nearly weep
The industrious grinding sound is a sign of the benefits I am about to reap
I watch intently as my cup begins to fill
The intoxicating scent immediately gives me a thrill
I feel blessed to witness such magic
A life without coffee must be utterly tragic
The glorious liquid eventually reaches the mug's brim
In it I wish to swim
I grasp the sacred cup and retreat to my room
In this moment, I am saved from any more gloom
Each sip is more beautifully bitter than the last
Once again, the world is wonderfully vast
Everything is fantastic, nothing is amiss
Within this cup I have found true bliss
I feel as though I have been created anew
At least until I remember that homework is due