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Swirling coffee, a creamy tan,
Taste the bitter noise, the energy crackling beneath the tongue.

The sun blanketed by gray, lulled to nap by the whistling wind,
So the day goes on without it,
Trying to keep that heart's steady rhythm.

But it slows.

As does the coffee.

Tranquility hard to find, it instead finds the souls caught unawares,
Looking up to the sky in worry of their missing rain gear,
Stopping, thinking, resting.

The cup is still, forgotten, as the first drop falls.

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