Meeting

Poetry

I let her in today, My soul café opening its door, To smell the August breeze and the latte.

The table beside the window topped with lacy weave, Smiles at the sunflowers rowed outdoors. Our breakfast platter heaped with anxiety, Hope, liberally layered, Me and Myself — We sit soul-o-soul.

The morning bright peeps in, The shady inside breathes heavy, Faux smile, skittish moves not unnoticed, We walk the silent talk.

That discerning look, those wordless conversations, she taking me over — My soggy, clothe-less soul, now Hanging in the air, sun-dried, Nourished.

When Mirrors lie I slip into my café and latte, ‘Cos they don’t.

Thank you for your time.