The sorrows of coffee

It's when there's a spoon without sugar, silently listening to the morning's turmoil, the moon of yesterday, the crescent moon of last night, the dreams I had while sleeping.

time of silver mist
The season is disrupting the seating area, listening to the scent.
stirring up a little bit of heartbreak in my hands.
The four seasons suddenly become bitter, clearing the way to cross the river.

Brown cannot be called pure brown.
black untangles the mess on the sidewalk
still sitting with a cup of coffee
amidst the suddenly chilly and melancholic weather.

Last night there was lightning and heavy rain.
The virtuous man, by mistake, became a fanatic and collected...
The old shop is blurred by the rain and mist.
The tinkling sound faded into a lullaby.

vague cup, floating clouds
My hand suddenly felt it needed... another hand.

Source: https://baoquangnam.vn/noi-niem-ca-phe-3153192.html