Coffee and the Blues

Sitting in Starbucks
Speaking to a girl I once knew
Listening to the same old tunes
Frivilous coffee is sipped by chapped lips
As I write to the blues.

I wonder if she’s thinking
The same as I
That these words mean so much more
But perhaps they are less
Than what I believe them to be
But I still see
These words to be simply more
Than anyone will ever know
So I write
To let the girl hear
Through the music, through the coffee.

To write this poetry
So we listen to the tunes
And write and write and write again
These poems we read to one another
To match the blues
We’re hearing.

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