A contemplation of coffee

 Sometimes I’m a bit of a romantic.

 

Coffee Sometime

Let’s do coffee sometime,

find some quaint establishment

with a shingled roof and one-of-a-kind windows

that look out onto the wizened street

and all its rain puddles.

I’ll have a Foggy London,

and you’ll tell me that’s not coffee.

Then, to prove your point,

you’ll order a cup straight from the grinder

with no sugar,

surprising even me.

We’ll settle ourselves down

my elbows resting on the too-small table,

you shrugging into your chair,

which tilts to one side,

just a little.

The sun’s soft glow will travel slowly

from my hands to yours,

lingering when it reaches your smile–

even the sun is jealous of your smile–

and you won’t check your watch until

the last of the light has melted

from the windowpane.