Latte
he orders a croissant and a latte
peeps buzzing in my ears
savour of roasted coffee beans and thick whipped cream
he stares at her like
ardent flames owing to her
'she is the only woman in the world'
he was mesmerized in her skin and scent
the only treasure trove of his life he had
in a battered leather coffer like
ransom owing to her
'she is the only woman in the world'
at eventide
each breathe every jiff
with the whiff missing twist
their tryst with destine and fire with poetry
before the reign of quarantine
i remember serving in table no.-4
(Sir! Your croissant and latte...)
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