My Mother’s Coffee

By Lawrence R. Burton © 1983

Issue: May, 1983

I’ve searched the country over
But I’ve never found the way
To brew a cup of coffee
Like they did in Mother’s day;

A cup to set my mouth a’watering,
One to tempt my throat to sing
With the fragrant scent that drifted
From the kitchen in the spring!

That’s the coffee I am seeking;
That’s the kind it’s got to be,
And I’ll never stop my peeking
At those “old time” recipes

Until, someday, my search has ended,
And, after supper, I can lurk
Over one more cup of coffee
Like my Mother used to perk!

For, someway, she found the secret
Of drawing flavor from the bean
Without a trace of bitterness,
And without the need for cream.

An electric stove she didn’t have,
Or drip-o-lator new,
But, I’m searching, still, for coffee
Like my Mother used to brew!

She made it look so easy
As she watered up the pot
And stoked up her “Majestic”
To get her fire hot.

It was then I knew that heaven
Would, for her, have room to spare
For there’d always be her coffee
To delight the angels there!

Now when old folks start to gather,
And their stories start to flow
About their fondest recollections
Of those days of long ago,

I just wait my turn and “top ‘em all”
With my story not so new,
Of that tasty cup of coffee
That my Mother used to brew!