Truth be told I only drink coffee because the sunset hour makes me feel sort of sad and tender
That tapering moment when the day’s slipped fully from my fingers and running headlong towards the night
Reckoning with me, angling, and nudging me
What did you do?
What did you write?
Where you honest?
And even if you were, honest, and yet did not write, is it not still a lie?
Ah, I can’t be bothered. And so the coffee - an english, teatime, coffee.
With it a renewed second daytime and another night
Peachy ombre giving way to clear navy blue
And I’ll write, I’ll write, I’ll write
I promise, I’ll write