Pumpkin Spice Vice


As it turns out, I admit, I am part of the cult
My true colors show an irresponsible adult

I open up my wallet and pull out dollars, five
Hand it through the window and start to feel alive


My fingers feel the warmth through the paper cup
And I remove the lid to eat the whipped cream up

I try not to burn my tongue on the steaming milk
But as it cools I sip, and it sloshes through my mouth like silk


Before I even know it, the cup is empty and quite dry
The pumpkin spice is gone and I have to say goodbye

To the dollars that I spent and the coffee that is out
I tip the cup upside down to ensure the lost amount


I think about the cinnamon, ginger and other spices
And how this silly coffee is one of my seasonal vices

I mourn the bygone java as the flavor leaves my nose
A short-lived euphoria, that’s how expensive lattes go



This poem is part of the WordPress “Writing 201” Blogging U.
(Day 8) Today’s topic, form and device are: Flavor, Elegy and Enumeratio



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