Of Coffee, Crackers and Mortal Men

A man I thought wise said these words,
And having thought myself wiser that I was,
I sought to append.

So the man I thought wise said,
"I like my coffee the way I like my women;
Dark and Sweet."

And There.
Not just an empty cup of memories,
Reminding you of what was, with whiffs,
And the lingering warmth of a recently used bedside,
And the space between your fingers that once held Something.

And at Night.
Where the darkness warms as the Darkness cools,
And the moon shines in both.
The Nightsong the chorus to the sips and lip-touches.
The drink beckoning the lengths of night to come.

And with Crackers.
Because even though there is more to life than Love, and Flowers and Airs
It doesn't hurt to add Love and Flour and Air...
Or even a bit of hardship;
Though between the two of us, they grow soft.

That's how I like my coffee,
And my Crackers,
And some Mortal Men.
And I will enjoy them, until they,
Or I,
Expire.