It calls to us in the predawn hours,
sweet on the lips, warm to the touch–
like addicts we follow, like moths to the flame;
its heady aroma drawing us closer–
arousing our thirst, staking it’s claim.
What can this be, this curious thing
igniting our senses to make us give chase?
An unknown enigma? A wonder vaccine?
Or a magical potion that’s brewed from a bean.
© Ginny Brannan 2024
From Writer's .com for Day 23: Write about a mundane task that (secretly) doubles as a magical ritual.
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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.