The last sip of coffee I just took
At a table on the balcony in Billings Library
Overlooking the huge fireplace
Was stone cold.
It wasn't even a real sip,
Only a brown crescent moon
Which I espied through the mouthpiece
Of the plastic lid of my paper cup.
The coffee chilled me to the bone
When it dribbled on my tongue stone cold,
And I sure wish that old fireplace
Was blasting warm air across my face.
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