Create

They want me to create something pretty, something sweet. Ringing melodies to fill their rooms.A clean, clear stroke, one bow, and all these strings.Pushing, prying, and pulling on me.They want me to create,But it's not in me. This solumn sound these pure clean things.

Coffee Cups and Conversations

Do they seem to you to go hand in hand? For me there seems to be a strong tie between the two. If I were to ask you to coffee, I would certainly be seeking a conversation to accompany us. The coffee would simply be a means to an end. I would agree there are times when a good cup of coffee drank alone or in silence can be an end of it's own. I suppose these same thoughts could be transfered to a beer, cigar, or even an ocassional joint ( just kidding hope that made you smile), but tonight coffee is on my mind.



My favorite cup of coffee would not be based on it's flavore, but rather the conversation or atmosphere it was accompanied by. My earliest memories of coffee are not based upon taste either. I have strong memories of this liquid and they are from a time when I had never tasted coffee.



As a little girl I would wake up and go to mom and dad's room, pulling myself up and over the edge of their bed, I would make my way inbetween them and rest my head on Dad's shoulder. The smell of His steaming black coffee was unmistakable. Mom would have some creamer in her's, but Dad's was always a pure undiluted brew.



There was something I respected about that, but I couldn't bring myself to drink it down. Even to this day I find a black cup of coffee more honest than the creamy sweet cup I am drinking now.