Steam

Though I'm not TERRIBLY fond of this poem, it was fun to write. I haven't done a humorous piece in quite some time. I thought I could use a little giggle. Besides, this piece encompasses  really essential truth about life ;P

I suppose this piece really only tangentially relates to steam....I guess....but when *I* think of hazelnut coffee, I always think of steam. Maybe that's just me.

No specific questions for critique on this one, but all responses welcome :)

"Disappointment"

There is something disappointing
in the taste of hazelnut coffee.

First, its steam curls its fingers around you,
its scent reaches out, languid,
an enticing aroma of flora,
lightly roasted and alluring.

A tantalizing swirl of vapors, a warm embrace,
close your eyes--it spreads a fireplace before you,
stretches a summer tree over your head,
pulls up a lawn chair for you in a field of sunflowers.
Succubus, seductive and sensual,
a demon of sun-baked earth.

The anticipation builds,
hands trembling softly, waiting
for the crescendo of senses in your mouth--
but the first sip to pass your anxious lips

tastes only too much like soil.