“Coffee” by Nicole Alexeeva

Grandma made hers strong and drank it black.
“The only time coffee ever keeps me awake,
Is if I know there is still some left in the pot.”
As children, we enjoyed stirring in a touch of sugar
To sweeten the edge and just enough cream
To cool it to a warm inviting shade-
Savoring the ”grown up” taste.

At eighteen I sat, holding my cup
Blinded by tears, my grandma consoling me
Though dementia prevented her naming my grief.
My mom is gone and adulthood tastes bitter.
Grandma is gone now too.
I don’t drink coffee anymore.


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