Café 

A café on a small empty side street

plates and ceramic cups, peoples patterns ,

the smell of wooden coffee, butter and holy bread

made of mans hand

daylight mingles with the candles flames and peoples

voices tickle my fingertips

A women walks by the studded windows

wears a head scarf and a fox coat

who is she in love with?

A man in solitude, drinking tea, reading a book

pretending not noticing the world around him

Now and then he looks up, I look in his thoughtful face

His book his best companion.

Where does he belong?

The chef behind the counter

curly hair and floppy clothes, dark eyes the smell of onion on his fingers

whats his childs dreams?

2018

Jana Siân Blume