Magazines strewn amongst,
mis-matched coffee cups,
white rings on the tabletops,
We are just getting
up
You yawn & look at me,
making your way, groggily,
rub your eyes sleepily
as we exchange, ''good
morning ''
Hair sticking up in the air,
neither one really cares
Noisily pulling out a
chair,
both of us, with feet
bare
Coffee smells
permeate,
as it drips &
percolates,
begging us to take a
taste
Aren't Sunday mornings great?