Ghost in My Cup
Everyday he swims in my cup addicted to my coffee
Ghost in My Cup
Steam rises like a story
a ghost born from heat and hope
arms wide, eyes bright
haunting the morning calm.
He whispers through the coffee
of lives half-lived, dreams half-sipped
his voice is sugar, soft and slow
his soul made of caffeine and laughter.
I drink, and he dances
between the warmth and the wake
a spirit with no sorrow
just a taste for company.
Someone asked the little ghost
if he screams to scare the tired
he smiled and said kindly
no, I only shout to help
them wake up on time.
When the cup runs empty
he waves a smoky goodbye
and I smile, because even ghosts
need somewhere to start the day.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
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