In a holder, bitter brown caress
Sweet, sour, warm hands bare
Seldom silent, she sat across
Eyes covered with dusty hair
His head turned to her voice
His hand to his empty cup
Breaking his posed poise
He continued to look up
As he trembled towards
Her table stood in a daze
He stopped, still forwards
Sat down beside the craze
She slurped her sweet chai
Got up, paid her fare and tip
Walked out without a goodbye
Leaving him the last savoured sip
No comments:
Post a Comment