Just another day at your typical coffee shop. |
Your typical coffee shop People sitting about Scents of Colombia filling the air Newspapers up high with heads down low The mood what you want Familiar faces of people I don’t know Boring things on the wall, some call it art Like I stated, your typical shop Through the door rolls in a group of seven Baby through adults with smiles between the ears A toy in the youngest hand The device made simple A stick lined with bells, a sure death to the senses They find their seats, ironically next to mine Sounds of the bells fill the air Piercing my skull, a hard task to do Heads of others stay still, looking through their eyebrows The bells grow louder, like sounds of a Sunday service Now running around the bells are here and there Inside my head this kid is racing with bells in hand His mother unaware at the noise in my brain A quick stare from myself and those around me An alarm bell in her head that something is wrong Finally the bells will stop Quasimodo will be put to rest She fills her lungs, the bells must stop Ben This is what comes out A name to a noise is what I have learned Yet the ringing continues My ears about to fall off He finds a new tool, the arm of a sofa The bells grow louder My hearing coming to an end Another look gets her attention Quick to act, she responds with urgency Ben…Ben…Ben…Ben…Ben…Ben…Ben…Ben…Ben…Ben…Ben… LOUDER THE BELLS Ben…Ben…Ben…Ben…Ben…Ben…Ben…Ben…Ben…Ben…Ben… CLANG CLANG CLANG His father now chimes in, this indeed will end Ben………Ben………Ben………Ben………Ben………Ben…….Ben……… CLANG Ben CLANG Ben….but with the finger, a line has been drawn CLANG My ears made numb She quickly makes way, a mother at her ends Little Ben now answering for his sins She takes away the bells As simple as that I can still hear, much to my surprise I hear coffee being made Quiet old people talking The thump of a child’s head hitting a table His crying fills the air It is Ben His mother gives him the bells |