Perked

My coffee pot broke down today;
I’ve had it thirty years.
It always made a perfect brew,
Despite how it appears.

It’s dented, dull and slightly stained.
Its handle’s partly burned;
But when I put the coffee up,
I’d leave it, unconcerned.

It’s quite old-fashioned, you should know,
Because it percolates.
When people tout the joys of drip,
We’ve had some great debates.

I perk it for eight minutes
And not one drop do I waste.
When visitors enjoy a cup,
They marvel at the taste.

There’s only room for three small cups,
Just right to have each morning;
And then, today, it didn’t work –
Weak coffee, with no warning.

I had a spare pot tucked away
My husband once presented,
Thinking I’d prefer a new one
To one old and dented.

And so I tried it out today.
Perhaps I am to blame –
I set it up just right and yet,
It didn’t taste the same.

I miss my little coffee pot.
I know things cannot last,
But sadly, here’s another thing
Much better in the past.