Cinnamon or Sugar

The smell of coffee on the New Moon signals choices--though small, they make--or break--a day. Familiar spaces, old routines--new chaos.

Or cosmos.

Enjoy your coffee on this New Moon Day, everyone.

☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕

In the old coffeeshop, a familiar set,

My eyes on the menu--know what to get.

The espresso machine hummed, a tune that soothed,

A barista smiled--a stray cat knew.

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The cat sneaked in as I stirred the grounds

Sat by my side, without a sound

The coffee's steam wafted, I beheld--

Its secret waited, its tale to tell.

☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕

Sugar, cinnamon--pieces, loose

The barista smirked--'wisely choose."

Light streamed in from the new moon--

Said she, "Fate turns on choices soon."

☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕

With my spoon, I let sugar slide

On the tray, put cinnamon aside

A small choice, a little play

That caused the coffee's taste to stray

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The coffee thickened, the sugar sand--

Brown grains fell faster than I drank

I sat slumped, my mind confused

It came apart in chunks, unglued

☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕

I left the cafe, stunned, with my drink

My hand froze as I tried to think

The cat followed, pointing its tail

Chided me at my cinnamon fail

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The cup, on my table--stayed undrunk

I stirred, circling the bland sugar sunk

"Why didn't I, with cinnamon stay--

"No morning drink for me today."

☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕

The black cat then left with a leap,

Its black form took my mind that wouldn't keep

The moon still gleamed--fresh, renewed

Though choices small, one must be true.

☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕

Original poem by Michelle Liew. AI tags are coincidental.

For Mikeydred's August Prompt: