Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Once a week, I touch your lips,  
A longing deep in tender sips.  
I stir your heart with quiet grace,  
A lover's breath, a soft embrace.  
  
In shadows where the dawn is born,  
I form in silence, calm and warm.  
Neither bitter, nor too sweet,  
But in my depths, our hearts shall meet.  
  
Like moonlit clouds, I rise, I fall,  
A fleeting dream that fills your soul.  
Each Saturday, I softly call,  
To wake the fire, to soothe it all.  
  
What am I, this fleeting bliss,  
A fragrant, frothy, whispered kiss?  
  
A love that lingers, never gone,  
In every cup, I carry on.
Whispers in the Foam 21/12/2024 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
E B K Sep 2018
She sits in a
Cafe with her
Laptop open to a Page.
Plate empty with Crumbs
Coffee almost finished.
She ordered
a Cappuccino
not a Latte
wanting to watch her Weight
just in case

She planned for this Time
where she could wait for
Inspiration to strike. It hasn't Yet.

Ignoring her Needs
to finish that Paper
those Problems
take those Notes from the day she missed Class.

So this Window of Time
could be here
with the remainder of her Cappuccino growing cold
So she could be a Writer
and not a Student
a Worker
for this Window of Time

Yet now
it seems worthless
to schedule for Now
when the Inspiration still has
Yet
to Strike
Sally A Bayan Apr 2018
<3 <3 <3

She enjoys her morning espresso
while he savors his mug of cappuccino

she shapes his dimpled face
in her newly wakened mind
he imagines her big brown eyes
gazing like a buck...inquiring, yet dreamy

she hums a lover's lullaby, for him,
each morning, before leaving,
he lets his charcoal pencil play
on his ever ready sketch pads
draws her face with pixie haircut

they think of each other day and night
always......at the very same time

yet...not a word is said when their eyes
meet...not an effort done, to break the ice
they'd rather keep things within,
their coffee mugs...witnesses,
to their similar daily practices

what a shame...what a waste!

their elbows, their arms touch in haste
as they hurry....towards the quay,
the ferryboat takes long, they both wait
leaving their untold love go by
along with their unsung lullaby...

it happens daily...without fail
their feelings, bubbling as they sail
but...neither has the guts to bare

how could they let life go on this way?
content with just a secret love affair...
<3 <3 <3


Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 5, 2018
...a work of fiction...
AW Oct 2015
Coffee meats my weariness in
All-out open battle
Plays at swords with drowsy dreams
Preying on fatigue
Under foamy life traps
Caffeine lurks ahead
Closing in on oblivious bliss
It pulls me back to consciousness
Now my only hope for sleep is
On spiking my cappuccino
Vivienne Westwood
Always wears Chinos
By Moschino
When making Cappuccinos
And insists all that drink
The aforementioned fare
Wear clothes
Adorned with safety pins
And have blond spiky hair.

Vivienne rarely makes Cappuccinos.

— The End —