Black Coffee Unto Us

A found poem

I’m feeling mighty lonesome,
And the government hasn’t slept
A wink, for unto us a Child is born;
Unto us I walk the floor and watch

The door, and in between a Son is
Given black coffee; Love’s a
Hand me down God. I’ll never
Know an Everlasting Sunday

In this weekday Peace. The Prince
Of brew, Oh Lord, how slow
Upon His shoulder, the Mighty
Dreams to dry and drown in

All the morning. A man is born
A Father, a woman’s Wonderful
And mourning all the night, and
His name shall be Might.

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