Random Acts of Poetry

Suspended Caffeination

It starts with a gurgle, as if it would choke,
then it bubbles a bit, so I start to hope -
but nothing comes out, no, not yet.
A minute a cup? I’ll take that bet.

In the icy morning air, a bit of steam,
but still from the spout there is no stream.
The pot is still empty and so is my cup -
I begin to wonder why I even got up.

Maybe a pot never boils if you watch it.
The coffee may brew if it thinks I forgot it.
So, I turn my head and whistle a tune,
Andy Griffith Show, but still too soon.

To the coffee’s appearance I pretend
to not even care, and to the toaster attend.
I adjust the dial, and brush up the crumbs.
I’ve been standing so long, my leg is numb.

I know that it’s working, the light is on.
Oh, a drip! a drop! it’s just plopped upon,
the lid of the pot and now it’s dripped through!
There’s one hundredth of my coffee brewed.

20 Lines

Written for "PromptMaster !" 


Task Prompt:
Write a poem that makes the reader wait.