An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

Leaves droop and fall  slowly one by one  the venerable old tree still stands majestic  as it has always been the trunk still proud its root buried deeply into the crumbly black soil a solid sentinel  still watches over us all its branches touch  the cloudless sky  but now they are bare it shivers in the cold because it has lost its yearly armor.

mournful for what  should have been  instead of what is  that is why  I look ever forward  because if I look back  all the regret  would swallow me up my mind trapped in a muddy mire of pain and sadness of old open wounds  and I can't change  what happened in the past  but I can still improve  my lot for the future