Bean Dreaming

by Richard M. Ankers

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

Entering to a bell as though welcome,

overt smiles greet these scowls.

With so many luxuries to enthral the senses,

we choose the simplest and sit.

Classical music graces unseen speakers

hidden from view, not mind.

This is ambience by design, perfunctory;

we close our eyes to elsewhere. 

Curlicues of steam make mysteries

of a developing morning,

that huffs and puffs beyond a 

forcefully fogged window;

we chill to our forefathers as the bean,

prized and perfected, percolates.

Leather seats make false luxury

for this temporary king of the hour.

Brief lives pass in ever-cooling sips

and whorls of ochre gloop. 

Time to go. Time to leave. The misting

cityscape is just another dream

I have no wish to wake to, and

definitely no wish to wake from. 

The End


Thank you for reading

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Richard

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