It was a quiet afternoon of reminiscing
Nostalgia lingered in the sunlit air
intermingling with the sweet aroma of coffee
as I sipped and leaned back in my chair
˜
He walked up to me as I sat by the window
I waited to see what he wanted to say
“Your skin is the color of my mocha’, he smiled.
‘Just a notch deeper than your café au lait.’
°
With his jet black hair and Mediterranean eyes
And a physique worthy of a prize winning stallion
His confident air and his subtle smirk
He had to be greek, or maybe a charming Italian
˜
Long hair in a messy bun that didn’t care
jeans ripped in strategic places
His gaze never left my quizzical eyes
obscuring everyone else’s faces
°
He waited for me to respond
mere seconds since his saunter
Forever engraving in my mind,
This coffee shop encounter…
oh when the mind roams, it takes us to these sultry places, more “sultry” than “place,” 🙂
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Nice poem!
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thank you, dara40
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🙂
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