Cold Coffee
Nervous fingertips glide
Across faded table top,
Leaving a evaporating trail
Like faceless ghost.
I study the streaks
On the glass door;
With finger prints
That linger
Like unwanted vagrants,
Also faceless.
I listen to the
Hum in the silence
And watch the dance
Of dead leaves.
And lifelessly;
I drink cold coffee.
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