The delicate golden liquid
Steaming gentle wisps into the air
A teasing hint of its scent hid
Behind leafy ripples, here and there
Poured out with shimmering grace
In a sparkling amber arc,
Day after day, a ritual hostess
As light gives way to dark
But the day had begun with another
That scowling dark prince of the morn
Not for the weak-hearted to suffer
That scalding caffeinated scorn
The wonderfully robust smell
The jolt to the senses with each sip
The brew that can compel
Slumber to relinquish its grip
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