#PoetryInRoutine
The kettle sings a quiet hymn
in the early morning hush,
steam rising like a whisper,
a breath against the dawn.

I cradle the mug,
its warmth a gentle pulse
against my palms,
a heartbeat beneath porcelain skin.

The coffee drips,
each drop a slow cascade
of black liquid thought,
filling the air with the scent
of daydreams and toasty earth.

I stir the dark swirls,
silver spoon spinning galaxies
in a ceramic cosmos,
a tiny universe born
with every turn of my wrist.

Sip by sip, I drink
the world awake,
savoring the boldness,
the bitter bite of life
on my tongue,
the heat that chases
sleep from my bones.

In this small moment,
the day unfolds,
petals of light blooming
from a night’s shadow,
and I am alive,
a soul awakened
by the simple grace
of morning’s first touch.

© poembyselly