I breathe your name. With half-closed eyes I reach
A hand to feel your form, my fingers fumbling,
My joints awak’ning, slowly. I beseech
A taste — not yet? Forgive me please my bumbling.
You’d think that endless string of cock’rel’s cries,
At which I start awake and look for you,
Would soon compel my mind to realise
I can’t insist your company is due;
But O! how wretched time wears on before
My first sweet-bitter sip of you. Revived,
My heart beats faster, thoughts race ever more
Dynamically — through you I have survived.
I cannot overpraise this saviour mine,
For without coffee I would stay supine.