Coffee, poetry and equanity

I wrote this poem after writing an editorial piece on corruption. I felt sick of political events. I felt I needed to write something to purge my soul of negative vibes. So here, be my guest. I dedicate this one to all coffee lovers (especially MT), with due apologies to William Butler Yeats and Robert Frost.

Raise your cup, my friend.
Then let it touch your lips
Let’s honor those who pick the beans.
Let its scent stir your soul
As we pay tribute to those who toil
And make the mountains green.

Let’s drink the brew, my dear
Sip it slowly as if we’ll live forever.
The night is cold and tender;
Let its warmth flow like a beautiful dream
As we explore the heights of fervor
And its spiritual realm.

My dear, for every sip
We could challenge the whims of fate.
Or frolic in the court of William Yeats.
What will he beg of us, my friend?
That we should tread softly
For we are treading on his dreams

Oh dear, are you confused?
Let’s see Robert Frost.
I wonder if he’ll say it's treason
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season.