Morning Coffee

“Damn,” she muttered,
pushing through the fog uncluttered.
holding her canteen full of coffee,
her bag loaded with toffee;
down the misty dock she went.
fast upon the hill she made her ascent,
up the path made of concrete,
what a momentous feat!
she arrived with a hush,
she wasn’t in a rush,
she paused–unlocked the door,
oh, her mornings, what a chore!
she looked to her right and on the fir shelf
sat a little toy elf.
a smile upon her face,
the day she’ll well embrace;
her first customer walks through,
that one last sip of her brew
she sets it down,
and sells a toy crown

© Nicole Harlow (grenbisous)

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