The door swings open, a bell jittering,
and the day spills inside like spilt milk.
I am a patchwork of half-thoughts,
stitched together by too little sleep.
The barista shouts, “Venti caramel macchiato!”
Her voice, a ribbon cutting through fog,
a lighthouse beam in caffeine-starved waters.
I feel the words land,
sharp and sticky, all at once.
Around me, the hum of humanity,
heels click, laughter clatters like spoons in saucers.
I clutch my name on a cardboard sleeve
as if it’s the only tether to myself.
In this room of hopeful hands,
every refill feels like a fresh start,
every name called, a benediction.
The espresso steam curls toward heaven
but stays grounded, like all of us.
She calls again. Someone stirs awake.
The cup exchanges from palm to palm—
a small, fleeting ceremony of connection,
syrup-sweet and fragile as morning.
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: May 22nd, 2026 09:17
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments2
Beautiful Gray there are certain things that tie us together and coffee is one I drink it as a social offering never alone. A great mix of images of the coffee house and its social clatter. Very well done my friend
Thank You brother for sharing your feedback
You are most welcome Gray
Recovery in an environment I can relate to.
A little envious of your start to the day. With your coffee shop too far away, mine starts with very strong black tea.
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