The taste of coffee.
The sound of jazz.
The sight of a rainy night in Paris
Through this cafe glass.
I tap my cup,
Like the second-hand ticks the clock.
I feel like an old grandfather
To the world that I never see,
As I sit in front of the glass,
In this passenger seat.
As the cafe Open sign flickers in the window,
I see a jazzy lady, with eyes and hair like coffee,
Walking past, and coming in through the door.
She sits by my side.
I say, “Hi.”
She smells the coffee on my breath
And says, “Oh, I can go for some of that.”
And then kisses me,
Like she’d hold a rose to her nose,
She pushes my lips to hers.
Okay, haha, that’s not how it really goes.
But she is really here.
I don’t think I can go up to her and say anything.
I just nod my head, look into my coffee and stare.
It keeps me awake.
It gives me this beautiful taste, and for what?
I nod my head again, and I look up.
I tap my cup.
I look through the window,
Knowing I should just go home.
Sure, I need eight hours of sleep,
But I don’t need to be up this long.
I should just go home.
I’ll be strong enough to say hello,
After my cup coffee, of course, lol.
Oct 2, 2018
This one is similar to my previous poem "Coffee (personification)".
I guess you can look at this poem as showing how we met lol
although I didn't write it to.