There sits a coffee machine, down in our kitchen.
It’s fancy,
Too many buttons,
So complicated,
But it makes some pretty good coffee.
I don’t use it.
I stopped drinking coffee ages ago
Because it was too much effort.
But I used to
Every morning
I’d come down and make myself a coffee
Sit and nurse it while the world woke with me.
My mom doesn’t use it.
She prefers this matcha combination
That’s too complicated to explain.
But she used to
Every morning
She’d come down and make herself a coffee
So she could wake herself up.
My brother doesn’t use it.
He’s in another country, continent
Buying Starbucks at his university.
But he used to
Every morning
He’d come down and I’d make him a coffee
Because he was always running late.
My dad doesn’t use it.
He’s always travelling for his job
And he’s getting coffee at work.
But he used to
Every morning
He’d come down and make himself a coffee
Drink it as he made my brother eggs and read the news.
We used to use that fancy, overcomplicated coffee machine.
We used to appreciate it, love it, take pride in it.
But now it sits, always ignored, in the kitchen.
Watches all of us get on with our lives.
Watches as it gets left behind.
It’s no longer needed.