The brisk winter air
spreads seasonal sickness and
finds salvage in my weakened body.

Recovering in a blanket cocoon,
the kettle squeals,
and I grab the toasty handle.

I tilt the steaming water into the mug,
pouring the clear liquid on top of the chocolate.
Brown powder slowly rises to the top.

Stirring to calm the flaming inferno,
the steam escapes its boiling home,
into the freeing, dry air.

My cautious mouth leans in,
lips touching the lava,
my head whipping in surprise.

Chocolate escapes it’s dungeon,
and tears sting my eyes.
The throbbing on my lips remains.

Learning from my mistake,
I fan the hellfire to a bearable temperature
and finish the once lava liquid.