Four Cafes

Cold January, but so many stars. I view these from my high apartment window. I sit and watch during the longs nights. Looking to Heaven, for constellations. Restful. Then below, frenetic, comet like, flashes of life. An asterism of 4 cafe's! Do they still exist or like stars, burnt out long ago. Echos of life. I sit, betwixt the two, going nowhere whilst the universe and life drifts by. A different bell for each, like an orchestra where everyone has perished but for the triangle players, playing on, nervously. Cafe 1 - soft ding, plumes of smoke. Happy people. DDing! Double D ding - cafe 2. Triangle player quaking. Stay all night, enter walking tall, leave confidence vanished as if turned into the billowing smoke that powers next door. The lightest of dings for 3. Loner's only. Always getting a window seat. Perfect! I laugh and wince at the same time. Momentary distraction followed by dread. That dark cloak that locks you in place. Cafe 4. Din! The player interrupting the resonance. Cafe with presence. The opening door deadens sound. Silence. Until the din! Absence of echo. I drift off, perhaps to sleep, perhaps to join the orchestra. Word count 196 Four Cafes Poetry Contest 21st February 2023 Sponsored by: Julia Ward