Miles to Go Before My Coffee Cools ☕🫖

I once waltzed with the dawn 🌅,

my feet sipping dew 💧,

pockets full of sunshine ☀️,

and the air tossing me compliments

like confetti 🎉.

I cuckooed with pigeons 🕊️,

laughed with dogs 🐕,

sang with the mynas 🎶🐦,

whispered back to them in their own tongue,

and pampered cats 🐈 like royalty.

But now the windows are closed 🪟,

the doors are latched 🚪,

and endless household chores 🧹🧺

chain my hours in neat little piles.

Mornings arrive like stubborn postmen 📮,

delivering envelopes of pills 💊,

necklaces strung with guilt 📿,

and coins clinking in the currency of “for your own good.” 💰

I smile—wide enough to hide the splinters—

for my wings 🪽 are folded,

clipped into a polite origami of obedience 📜.

Still, in the corner of this cobwebbed ballroom 🕸️,

a firefly hums a hymn 🪲,

its lantern whispering

that the ✝️ still holds.

And though the banquet before me 🍽️

tastes of someone else’s appetite,

I nod, fork in hand 🍴—

for there are miles to go,

miles to go before my coffee cools ☕.

And while I truly love

a steaming milk tea 🫖—pure,

no water, cardamom crowned 🌿,

sweetened with sugar, love ❤️, faith ✝️, and hope 🌟—

when life hands me coffee ☕,

I sip it with gratitude 🙏.