People rushing in and out, oblivious to other,
While I sit in the corner, watching birds
Brawl over bread crumbs; I want their freedom.
The hum of coffee grinders, light jazz music,
And the occasional tapping fingers on laptops
Gives the coffeehouse it's own unique rhythm.
The sweetness of sugar,
And the scents of desserts drift in my direction
I sip on the hot Earl Grey tea
As I cradle it's cup cautiously and gently.
A sense of simplicity and still rests on my tongue.
Unfocused, my pen taps, torturing my homework.
A tired, yet restless, finger takes laps around an empty saucer.
Curious eyes caress the serenity
Which pulses from her cup. |
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