Coffee
by Liz Szabo '18
How I love it
When my mom grinds the coffee beans
In the morning,
Like a memory
Or the first ray of a sunrise.
The beautiful smell
Flowing through the air
As cozy
And rich
Like a smile.
When my mom grinds the coffee beans
In the morning,
Like a memory
Or the first ray of a sunrise.
The beautiful smell
Flowing through the air
As cozy
And rich
Like a smile.