we are wings
lifting to let go
at the café
voices,
each different
like the
language of
aroma and taste
tables with candles,
chairs
back to back
red and mustard
colored walls,
black and white
tiled floor
waitress’ slip
narrow paths
here,
protected from
a sharp
outside night
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Author:
shadow424 (
Offline) - Published: April 30th, 2021 07:32
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 47
- Users favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses, haleyalexis.
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Comments3
Neat write took me to a street out on a warm nite having a coffee maybe at a tapas bar
I wish!
May those days become reality again.
Andy
Nice words 🙂
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