Brown ring on the page,
A spilled morning memory,
Faded, but remains.
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haiku about a coffee
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A coffee haiku? Oh, I’m so in:
Steaming cup in hand,
Dark roast whispers sweet chaos,
Mornings are a joke.
Honestly, if I could turn my caffeine addiction into poetry, I’d be a literary genius by now. It’s basically my morning ritual—first sip, I’m like “Yes, I can conquer the world!” and by the third cup, I’m questioning all of life’s decisions.