Lack of Coffee

His fingers type away on the keyboard
His strained eyes glued to the screen of his laptop;
His imagination running wild
He lets loose the figments of his mind.

Finishing his own masterpiece,
He settles down on his comfortable seat;
His eyes bloodshot from weariness,
He closes his laptop shut.

He looks at the clock
The hands that go tick tock;
It expresses the time 3:30 A.M.
And it continues to do its job to move.

He drags his body to the kitchen
And opens the cupboard wide enough to see;
The inside shows an empty blackness
But it reveals a sachet of coffee.

He grabs the pack in one, clean motion
And rips it open with no hesitation;
He gets a mug of his own
And puts the powder into the mouth of the cup.

He pours hot water into the mug
And mixes the drink with a small spoon;
He brings the cup close to his lips
And sips the hot liquid for company.