Saturday, 19 November 2016

Midnight (Mis)Adventures

In the middle of the cold night
She wakes me up mercilessly
With her cold hands
Begs me for a cup of coffee
And insists
"We shall drink from the same cup"

I always take the first sip
She must take the last one
First sip is too hot for her lips
Last sip is too cold for mine

By the end of it
Both of us are awake enough
To mark constellations on each other
Till the morning light is welcomed
With the final kiss of the dawn

No comments:

Post a Comment