Instant Coffee

The lure of quick success, a tempting bait,

A fleeting profit, seemingly innate.

We chase the spark, the flash, the instant win,

But sow the seeds of what might never begin.

The mighty oak that stands with stoic grace,

From patient growth it found its rightful place.

The sculptor's hand, with years of steady toil,

Transforms a block to beauty, free from soil.

A house built strong will weather every squall,

While flimsy frames before the tempest fall.

True treasures take their time to come to light,

Blossoming slow beneath the sun's warm sight.

So let us turn from fleeting, hollow prize,

And set our course on what forever lies.

For steady gains, though slow, will surely stand,

A fortress built on wisdom's firm command.