The coffee shop

When I first saw her,
she was standing all alone
Besides that coffee shop
Had a notebook in her hand
I could see
Something she had written and drawn
I wished she wasn’t waiting for anyone
If she was
I wished it would be me

She turned around and
Started walking away
from the coffee shop
Then stopped halfway and
Turned and walked
And entered the coffee shop

She sat down at the table closest to the window
She saw outside
Not at me, not at anyone else
She just looked like
One looks while they stand at the edge of the mountain
Taking it all in

She picked up that notebook
And started writing something
Then her coffee came
I did not see her order anything
Maybe she came here often

It has been days now
The waiter knows
My taste in coffee now

This is something I just wrote, did not edit a single line. This is fictional. 🙂

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32 thoughts on “The coffee shop

  1. Sometimes when you just write, letting your thoughts flow out from your mind to the keyboard, it turns out to be your best work. I find that my writing flows sometimes, and at other times there is so much blocking my thoughts that I cannot put word to keyboard, pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, thought to blog.

    Liked by 1 person

    • This is very true. There are days and nights when I write constantly and freely but then there are days, weeks and even months where I can’t put a word together. It is a mystery that is yet to be solved.

      Like

  2. I followed the link in Miss Book Thief’s blog. It’s good to know the context for her follow-up. I want to reach my arm into your poem, shake your protagonist’s shoulder and say, “Go on! Speak to her! I know what she’s thinking.”

    Liked by 1 person

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