Coffee
Raising the mug to my own,
Taking in the aroma,
I watch as the park bustles
And dwell on my own dilemma:

A father teaches his son to catch
As a bitter gulp goes down the hatch.

The boy listens with eager intent
Though of a rock he is ignorant.

His mother rushes to tend to his scrape,
And I feel something I hate,

More bitter than the coffee in my hands.
Is it envy? Is it jealousy?
Whatever it is, it wakes me up
And pushes me to face reality.