imagine:

sitting on A stool on a stage
Small and creaky
aroma of coffee and maybe a cigar and sweet casualty in the air
imagine singing your mother’s favorite song to remember her softly
then Coming off stage
(greeted by your love poking your side so laughably irritating)
to sip a now tepid coffee, made by someone who knows your name
as you watch a neighbor go sit on the same stool
singing a song Of funny nostalgia that tickles the sides of your heart
reminding the room of our collective Age
with a chuckle and a smirk exchanged
and recounting the beautiful memories of lives lived in adjacency to one another
that makes up such a quaint Story

imagine that.