Open eyed I stare at the simple setting
waiting for the day to start,
the bread-baked scent of morning warms.
The grinder whirs and whirs,
beans fly, grounds brew, cream chills,
will you come?
Rose nails tap, finger wish to wrap
arms to bend as heart shaped chair backs
about the trunk of you, my Valentine.
Will you come?
Ah yes, you come, croissants in hand
reclaimed from the waiter, pull back my chair,
lay down a single rose. And we sit where love is wrought
encased in iron, all motions chaired by Cupid's bow.
Contest Café Musing
Poet Debbie Guzzi