An Espresso when I met you,
Make that three bitter shots of it.
Staring at you from afar, fleeting glances.
Was there more to your coffee?

A Long black when I spoke to you,
One single shot too acrimonious.
At coffee stained lips I giggled.
Was there more to your cold behaviour?

Soon you become an Americano,
Diluted with water and good to me.
Shades and hues of coffee now bare,
How many coffees are you?

One of those days you're a Mocha,
Chocolate sweet and warm; too good.
Then a Cappuccino, hot and bitter.
Mood swing much, honey?

Not long after those days, you're Flat white,
Perfect for art and creativity.
Like you painted my life with coffee,
You're always too hot or cold, why?

Frappe best suits you on a warm day,
With ice and ice cream lifting my mood.
Hot chocolate and brownies,
Your favourite, isn't it honey?

We drink Irish coffee with whiskey,
Giggling at the memories of the cafe.
Warming me and my hands by the fire,
On a cold winter's night at home.

Guess long hours at the cafe,
Ordering similar coffees, copying.
Gulping down what I didn't know then,
Paid off, didn't it honey?

This is coffee love and,
I love you, my coffee lover.