literature

Coffee Stains

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FightingIsolation's avatar
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Literature Text

I've sat here in this bustling coffee place for far too long,
The manager keeps looking at my empty cup with a frown.
It's a small town, and I am nearly positive I studied with her kid,
Or maybe I played soccer with him, who knows.

The rain drifts down like a linen sheet, slow and fluttering,
Cuing my heavy sighs and tapping fingers.
My coffee stained heart pangs as I begin to think of Katrina,
How much she loved this place, and the mocha she'd order.

I can still see her smiling over a fresh baked scone,
Laughing at my poor jokes and reminding me,
That maybe the world isn't so bad after all.
Maybe love wasn't so impossible.

I guess I have come to the realization that I'm stuck,
Lingering on a past I'll never return to.
I'm facing the reality of Katrina and what she meant,
I'm thinking about the car that took her away from me.

The windows fogs as I lay my head to the glass,
Watching the puddles grow to run streams on the street.
I remember when my tears ran like that, streams.
I remember how alone I felt in the world.

Perhaps sitting in this booth alone, years later,
Is exactly what I needed. A reminder of my life,
everything, and everyone that has made me who I am.
Perhaps I'm still in love, slowly pushing my hand to where her's rested.

A sharp tap on the window brings me startled to November 2013,
A beautiful lady with a smiling child wave at me, giggling.
They're all bundled up in fleece and raincoats,
My wife and child. My life in all adoring realty.

I grab my coat, pausing for a moment at the empty bench,
Whispering a farewell to a memory I'll cherish forever.
She made me who I am, and gave me the power to love,
To carry onward to become the man I am today.

Perhaps my hope rests in this idea that the greatest gift of all
Is kindness, smiles, memories and vanilla lattes.
Simple human love for one another,
Great strengths given to us by those we meet,

And the ghosts that linger in our hearts.
© 2013 - 2024 FightingIsolation
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