I grew up drinking it.
Inherited from three generations
before me,
I’m immune to the bitterness 
others complain of.

The sweeteners only
dilute the true taste
of the drink 
some find vulgar,

yet, for me it slides down
with ease.
A golden brown 
syrup that’s best served
on ice— coming
in different glasses,
from different kettles, 
and in different shades,

But all appearances are