Daily Poems: Thursday 7 March

Cappuccino

 

Sometimes I’m consumed

with living,

dead

but never more alive.

Like spooning

the froth

in the chocolate head

of a second

cappuccino.

The air is thin,

an expanse

of whiteness

weighing almost nothing

in a membrane of light.

Una momento,

just a moment

let’s start again.

 

 

Liz Penny

 

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