Untouched

I sit with cappuccino and book wondering how things are with you . mind wandering, eyes veiled with thought fingers a’fidget .. spoon tween my fingers showing a strange view on life, glinting in the soft light reversal of how it is .. spoon strokes the milk froth cloud streaked with chocolate dust, foil wrapped mint, waiting .. I lower my lips then .. tongue the sweetness long 'n lovingly .. my book groans, lonely 'tween its covers title chosen in haste like many of my indiscretions .. minutes hiccup my alarm clock's face dusty with laziness, glass tinged by a once blushing rose week cut from my garden - proud 'pon its stem, a thorn feels the final petal fall to lie lonely on polished teak table, where my diary lies, unopened, untouched .. like me.