Decaffeinated

With neither teeth nor flavour
This ersatz brown beverage
Seeps through no veins
Awakens no senses
But with a shadow
Of breakfasts past
I miss my coffee
The taste of the real thing
Mornings gritty with
Coarse-ground broken beans
That stick in your teeth
Mug brewed hot and strong
To stand the spoon
Propping up tired limbs
That still stretch bedward
On a cloud of fragrant steam
Drooping head arrested
Upheld as surely as a
Marionette – strings and rod
Tied to a demitasse
Backbone taut to face the day
Tangy aftertaste to chase
Faint cobwebs of dreams
Back to their dark corners
Warm breath, parted lips
Gently smile and
Blow them all away
Take a sip, savour the jolt
A reminder you have awoken
And things may now follow
Their usual groove

A Rude Awakening

I look to the East as the sunrise begins
With the pale glow that lights up the dark.
The stars slowly fade as the morning alarm
Tries to drown out the air of the lark.
I stretch with a yawn and feel five hours older
Though I may have passed them in sleep
And groan as my feet reach to meet the cold floor
When to my bed they rather would keep.
As I fill up the kettle and stand at the counter
My week-daily headache begins
And I curse the poor souls, who even before dawn
Have been sent out to empty the bins.
As the toast I smell charring and burning away,
I gaze at the clock ‘cross the room,
And noting the numbers that glow on the dial
I growl “Saturday” into the gloom.