Untitled button poetry stories

glendadecastro Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
The morning breeze show up with the promise of winter

The morning breeze show up

with the promise of winter

though it's not December.

The coffee shop you loved

still wears a golden, rose-colored,

and verdant fairy lights

on Sunday evenings

even on a normal day.

It still serves your favorite coffee.

A cup of mocha or cappuccino will do.

The way you like it

Not too bitter

Not too sweet.

A cup of perfection.

I can still remember

the way you talked about

the sacks of coffee beans

we're going to stock in our house.

Maybe someday,

In some way,

In a universe far away.

I can still remember

the way you used the term for your relationship

with coffee -- "in love" or "addicted".

The wall on the left side

full of scriptures and arts.

And on the right, hanging Polaroids

and photographs.

It still reminds me of

The way the sun softly touches

Your brown eyes

And your messy black colored hair.

Sitting in your favorite corner of the cafe.

And for a bit,


The world seems golden.

I'm writing this all down

On a lone Monday evening

I would forever think of you

every time I stepped foot in this coffee shop.

Oh, the warm coffee on my hand

now turned into a cold end.

Isn't it strange how

You only notice some things

When do they end?

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