Coffee
J.V. Cunningham
When I awoke with cold
And looked for you, my dear,
And the dusk inward rolled,
Not light or dark, but drear,
Unabsolute, unshaped,
That no glass can oppose,
I fled not to escape
Myself, but to transpose.
I have so often fled
Wherever I could drink
Dark coffee and there read
More than a man would think
That I say I waste time
For contemplation's sake:
In an uncumbered clime
Minute inductions wake,
Insight flows in my pen.
I know no fear nor haste.
Time is my own again.
I waste it for the waste.
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