Essay about coffee

Composition about coffee

The soft white clouds are floating leisurely, and it is the memory of the crisp autumn air. How can that soft heart become softer in this winter?

I want to say it’s a cup of warm coffee, do you believe it? I want to say that he was nowhere to be found, but he was greeted gently by a friend. Do you believe it? I would rather say that a look back instantly softens this season. Do you believe it?

Actually, I just want to say a cup of warm coffee, that’s enough. Smooth coffee, like a soft memory, ten or twenty years ago? It’s not so clear anymore, but it still seems like it was yesterday, vividly and brightly in front of my eyes, carrying indelible memories. Sometimes the young heart can be lit up in an instant, and sometimes the impulse of memory can burst forth in an instant.

A cup of coffee, stirred gently, is like a forgotten butterfly flower, dancing gently, and suddenly falls in front of my eyes. I am more surprised than excited.

This sleeping flower, I quietly woke her up from her dream, and I was instantly surprised by her beauty. This sleeping flower is extremely stunning in winter.

I am afraid of coffee with added sugar. I am afraid that it will be too sweet and make me forget about the right time and place. The light bitter coffee, like walking on a road that leads to nowhere, wraps around the tip of the tongue, soothes the heart, and cannot be forgotten. Even in the silence of the night, a lost person can regain his original dream of returning home.

Perhaps I have suffered a lot. I have a special liking for coffee, its beauty makes me very attached to it especially in winter. When I was a child, I was frail and sickly. I took a lot of bitter medicines, cried and made troubles, and tasted the bitterness again and again. Although I am afraid of suffering, the memory of deep suffering is permanently confirmed in my heart.

A cloud of hot fog instantly obscured my spectacle lenses, preventing me from seeing the true appearance of the coffee. I suddenly felt like the last falling leaf in winter, which happened to fall into this coffee cup, struggling, swimming, and afraid. Then he was hugged by warmth again, so soft and kind, like the care of a mother's love, like a gentle lullaby, and like a caress, almost falling asleep.

That coffee with sugar will definitely fly away in the sky like a swan with wings one day. Will it still fly to the lake in this winter and land in an elegant manner? Even if the water plants are calling softly, even if this was once my hometown!

Oh, winter. I suddenly miss coffee warmly. I drank gracefully and drank the butterfly flowers, bitter pills, and a white swan, and I was drunk for a season.