Sitting in the coffee shop,
listening to conversations not mine,
laughter and giggles float in the air, as
Columbian beans spill their aroma around.
Looking out the window, sipping a latte,
my mind wanders to landscapes and love,
my Muse flitters from one idea to another,
while nothing yet seems to take hold.
Clicking keys on laptops have rhythm –
a meter I can’t quite make out, and
silent music plays in the ears through buds,
barely seen except the hanging cord.
The pulsating buzz of the latte machine
jolts me back into present time,
not a story or a poem has come forth,
a product of a mind too tired to speak.
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