Morning at Arabica

I sit in a tiny coffee shop
In a micro-city by the sea
Air thick with salt and its urban aspirations
I am cocooned in a comfy chair by the front window
Gazing out at the window box, filled with nasturtiums, the colors of the sun.
Sipping an iced coffee and eating the best pecan sticky bun ever
(May I have that one with the most caramel, please?)
I can see you here.
Your eyes shine in wonder in response to all that is new to you.
Like a little boy, you hold the big latte cup filled with steaming soy chai.
(You nearly let it go completely cold contemplating the heart design they made in the foam.)
A Sarah McLachlan CD plays in the background.
You are not listening to the words, but I am.
She sings about Possession and kissing your lips so hard.
That much intensity is more than this little space can hold.
I can see you.
But you are only here in my mind.
And later on in the CD when her lyrics speak of the "wound that won't heal", I know that's what you are.
As much as I may try and let you go, I cannot.
I take you with me everywhere,
Even places you will never go.



read more poems in the archives page

All writing contained in this website 1998-2005 by Betty A. Parker

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