Cafe at Night

I wonder, as I’m passing by at night,
Who all’s been sitting in this empty place;
The heartaches and the secret joys within,
The stories that I know I’ll never know

A hand was held, a tear or two was shed;
A text received that said it was the end –
A latte was somebody’s only peace –

I think it as I travel on my way —
The stories it could tell
This lone

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5 Thoughts to “Cafe at Night

  1. I love (and mostly miss) nighttime things, like IHOP or some little diner’s *breakfast* at 2 a.m. or laying in bed and hearing trucks roar down the highway way off in the distance. Gosh, I love that sound, and I love this graphic and this poem.

      1. For his sake, I learned how to form actual words before 7 a.m., but they are few and far between — I hope your owl has outdone me!

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