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...)