Coffee Shop Encounter

It was a quiet afternoon of reminiscingimage
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…

Coffee Conversations


The world needs more hand-written love letters
and people holding hands,
and  each other.

The world needs unwakeable dreamers
peering over their lip-mounted cafe au laits,
inhaling the nostalgia of quivering edge-curled
pre-autumn leaves.

The air is filled with the scent of those words.

ah.. if i could trade places with an empty chair beside you
I’d certainly have a more accurate sense than this “waiting room”