a poem about caffiene

nothing as lovely
as a steaming mocha latte
on a crisp fall day.
freckled with cinnamon speckles
sweet and richly satisfying,
perfection in a cup?
but what cup could contain
this wondrous drink?
wisps of latte essense
escape into the world
as you watch,
beautifying every atom they touch
as they dipserse
into the brilliant sunshine,
which on this afternoon
has a rival.