It's just poetry, it won't bite

My Days at a Coffee Shop

05.28.19 Posted in today's words by

Divya Gautam lives and writes in New Delhi, India.

My Days at a Coffee Shop
By Divya Gautam

My days at the coffee shop
Were spent drinking in the filtered air
Colder than most attic drafts
And watching people go by their days
Without really seeing this existence.
The hum of the brewing machine kept up with the queue,
But left my hopes far behind
Hidden between the junk filled drawers
Of my coffee colored desk.
I burnt my tongue with hot beverages
Served silently in ceramic cups
That are perfect for holding onto with both hands.
Most days, I went there to watch
Time take deep breaths and exhale
Coffee fumes onto windows.
Some days, I went there to think
About the lives I haven’t lived
And the ones that I have come close to living.
One day, I will go there for nothing,
And smell the sugar drown in hot lava
Like my dreams in the drawers
And my head in its thoughts.
But till I am acquainted with that future,
I will go there often,
To think, to watch, and to breathe,
The air that filters all my thoughts.

3 Responses to “My Days at a Coffee Shop”

  1. Charlene james says:

    Oh how beautifully luscious.

  2. Heather Banks says:

    Great poem. Thanks so much. Coffee is a big part of my life, so I made arrangements to go to Nicaragua the week after I retired. The coop farmers work so hard to grow, pick and process their crops, and especially to become certified organic. As one of our group said, one cup should really cost $25.00. Another layer to my enjoyment of the drink and the spaces in places and lives we devote to COFFEE!

  3. This puts the thought of coffee shops in a whole new light. Good job.

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