A personal significance is explored and reflected upon in this poem, bringing up the idea that even someone’s everyday essential, coffee, can mean the most to them in many ways.
Why I still drink coffee
The doctor told me to stop drinking
coffee, but there was something endearing
about the way my hands trembled
–it reminded me of when we first met.
We used to sit in cafés
with nothing between us,
except the table
with two paper cups laid on top. The white
cup clasped in your pale, rough hands.
You and I aren’t together anymore,
so, I drink
my coffee by myself. And with
the soft shaking of my trembling hands
I pretend you’re still