Love Sonnets and Coffee

*stir, stir, stir* *sip*

Hello, coffee.

Hi.

How are you?

I’m feeling a little light.

Hey, you don’t have a French accent today. You sound kind of…midwestern.

No more French Roast. I’m the store brand.

Oh. *sip* Did you know that today is the anniversary of William Shakespeare’s baptism?

No.

Do you care?

No.

I’m surprised we get along so well. *sip* Oh, now I remember why.

silence

I don’t suppose you would consider reading me a Shakespearean sonnet?

silence

Let me get this straight. You want me to read you a Shakespearean sonnet while you drink me?

Please.

What do you think I am?

A consumable.

Consumable? I’m the elixer of life.

True. If coffee be the drink of life, drink on.

Wow. If I read you a sonnet, will you stop mangling other quasi-Shakespearean quotes?

Probably.

Okay. Could you…just keep your hands to yourself for a minute while I do this?

Oh, sorry.

SONNET 130

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

Thank you, coffee. That was delightful. Although I do wish you would have read it with a French accent.

You’re the one who went generic.

But…did I hear you say that my breath…reeks?

Only of me.

Oh.  That’s okay then.