She is now the coffee maker.

Bliss follows her everywhere;

She hardly even knows it.

Her café is never crowded,

But always busy. Never a line,

But every booth is occupied.

As you slowly sip your latte,

You can taste the God in her.

She stands by – hoping, waiting.

Your pain is to leave yourself.

Can it be through a cup of Joe,

Something so utterly delicious?

It’s the best you’ve ever had.

The taste, the aroma, the song –

A hymn, a rapture, in your cup.

Her pain is to love once more,

To break her heart once more.

Will you believe and ask her?