Coffee and Cream

[Verse 1]
He waited impatiently, watching people come and go
Through tall mirrors they would arrive fro and though
His mouth tasted with anticipation that he dreamed of
When it arrived, his fingers rubbed the porcelain: love
A Viennese coffee, impressive, he felt respected
All attention directed at Esteban from his prospective
Past imagination- superb and delicious
An accompaniment of three honey biscuit witnesses
Staring with allure, his eyes glazed with wonder
His thoughts a loud thunder, gaze of a hunter
Longing for the beverage, a long while in fascination
Moments of duration longer with inflation
Finally, he dared to pick up the long handled spoon
Measuring his life in these as opposed to moons
All he ever wanted personified in this cup
Remembering his manners, drink with the pinky up
All around him are reflections of grandeur
Shiny surfaces that ensures his abjure from just sir
Peering into the deep, smooth and decadent liquid
A premonition of the village glorifying his visits
Picturing his future where elegance becomes routine
About to be fulfilled is his wildest dreams
But of course, the blind happiness is not what it seems
With a sigh of ecstasy, he plunged into the cream

[Verse 2]
Trying to make this moment last to infinity
The affinity of dignity is in the vicinity
Stirred and stirred and stirred, clinking along the side
But soon the worst to happen: ruined pride
Suddenly the tip of the spoon knocked the wrong way
And in his dismay, looking at the terrible display
The coffee leapt pouring onto his clothes
With rows of amused eyes looked at his face aglow
Before he could stop it, the liquid obnoxious
Spilled onto himself and on the fiber of his conscious
The entire contents of the goblet, wasted
All the shame of the world, Esteban couldn't face it
Only suit no absolute, down the laundry chute
His spirit without resolute, his mind now in moot
Pale with frustration, angered with no complacent
Without one complainant, left this establishment
Fifty centavos poorer, mind replaying the horror
Thinking of ways to have a restored repertoire
A trail of the Viennese coffee on the springy carpet
Was it back to the harvest or have a new target?
Ferula told him that God has punished for vanity
But Esteban's fantasy is his only sanity
A decision has been made, a blaze to the grave
He will be brave and save for a glorious day
Esteban's mind will be refined and be inclined
Knowing that he will find the shine of design
Though this incident is nothing but four shadows
He makes it known that he will continue shallow
So with a requiem for a dream, he makes it deemed
This will not be the last of the cream.