Sitting on fake suede, the tap of rain
Drumming its heartbeat
On misty-eyed windows
Tear streaked in
Our drawn out pause.
Teacup clatter of faceless strangers
Mingles with the meaningless words drowning out
The too loud walls.
The world spins with the swirl of your spoon
Dispersing sweetness (artificial of course)
To soften these sounds,
Threatening in their clarity.
Cappuccino froth still fresh on your lip
As you stand to walk away
The fall of your footstep echoing in time
To the mournful beat
Of our Coffee House Blues.