There’s no bottom to its murky depth
No end its ribbony aroma
I swear it gives me living breath
And revives me from my coma

Alas! There’s not enough of it
In my one and lonely cup
I search in vain for the final bit
But nothing’s left to conjure up

And now I read there’s fear of drought
To wither up the smallest sprout
No plants, no beans, just wretched doubt
My stash of coffee’s running out