Coffee roasting in the morning
The aroma of promise rising into the air
Rich, dark, and fragrant liquid dribbles into my mug
The slow steady splash of 1,000 drops of bitterness is like a clock I can’t stop hearing
Watching

Brewing takes time
And time is not endless
Neither is my coffee

How many spoonfuls of kindness will you add?
How much work will you pour?
How many hopes and dreams will you stir in?
Will you savor each sip even as success kisses your lips tenderly and failure burns your tongue?
How much will you spill before you realize what you’ve wasted?

Because eventually, your dark, rich drink will run out leaving nothing but some bitter grounds and a stained mug, still tainted with the scent