O, Mr. Coffee Cup.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My mug can hold, no more so after a sleepless night.
My need is obsession. No! In fact, it’s a craze.
I love thee, black gold. You brighten my days.
You deliver caffeine; you answer my plight.
Wee ones, they must wait, ’til you’re in my sight;
Once I have thee in hand, then trails I can blaze.
And those days when nary a drop’s to be found? Alas, we all lose;
For without thee, I morph into grumpy rhinothereth.
I love thee on morns when I cannot hit snooze.
I love thee on morns when I just feel like death.
I love thee with cream, and sometimes a nip of booze.
I shall love thee forever. Despite coffee breath.
I hereby apologize to Elizabeth Barrett Browning for butchering a perfectly beautiful love poem. I’m convinced, though, that had Starbucks had been around in the 1800’s, her sonnet might have turned out differently. But that’s just a theory.