The Rebellion

The last ounce of milk I had,
has turned its back on coffee today,
Not listening to my appeals,
sour, it has decided to stay.

Starting small out of a cup,
the news has spread afar,
“could have been prevented”,
reports the sugar jar.

As this rebellion grows,
suave tea is made the makeshift boss,
jumping to the occasion,
it tells me it’s “sorry” for my loss.

Humble water is boiled and added,
no questions asked,
as I regain control of the day,
I contemplate - will this last?