Time ticks by with each plink
Of rain and wet weary tires
As they fade by my window
All beaded-slick with moisture
Everyone is in a hurry to be somewhere
Pizzas and packages to be delivered
But here, in this dim room, it’s quiet
Even the clock’s tick is slow
And barely a whisper
My cup of coffee steams
Winding about the room
In an audible hiss, looking
For someone to snare in it’s aroma
But it’s just me, I take another sip
Vapors tickle my nose,
Waiting for someone to walk
Through the door and shake
The wet from their hair and collar

12/28/1998

Posted on 01/31/2003
Copyright © 2024 Amanda Conlogue