Turns out, morning is
a blend of coffee and words. The quality
of my coffee definitely affects the outcome of my stories, poems and gibberish.
The better the flavor, the longer I
linger selecting just the right feel to whatever it is I type. If my coffee tastes bitter or harsh, my
outlook on life becomes, maybe a little sarcastic or snarky, but should that
first sip be rich and smooth, I may see my words and phrases interspersed in a
field of colorful Tulips, with Monarch butterflies passing overhead. Perhaps even a quiet selection of Beethoven playing
off in the distance.
Of course, none of
that is true. I just saw this photograph
and thought I’d type something to go with it.
So, how’d I do?
1 comment:
Ya did good kid!
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