I sit and sip my latte,
alone again on a
Sunday morning at the
coffee bar, observing the
vibrancy of life as it walks
past the window.

Today is different, better.

I feel alive.
I am content in my solitude,
happy in my own skin;
this solitary morning holds
none of the desolation
of Sundays past.

Friday night after a hectic week,
instead of going out searching
for something I don’t know
the name of,
I took time for me;
a glass of Pernod,
Julian Cope
and my words my
only companions
until late when he came home
after a night out with mates
and swept me off my feet with
a torrent of emotions I thought
consigned to the past.

Grand passion, fuelled by
drink and smoke and love,
lit the way into Saturday,
morningbright with sun
and a reawakening
of feelings long obscured
by the soul-sap
of everydayness.

Saturday spent with the curtains
drawn tight against
the outside world, we recreated
our own universe
with a big bang
and there was heaven
and the firmament shook
beneath us as we consumed
each other, and were
consumed, by our fire.

Now, on this bright Sunday morning,
I sit and sip my latte
and reflect on the journey
that has brought us full circle,
back to where we were when
we were new,
and I realise that
even if we choose
different paths home,
at the end of the day
we still want to be
in the same place
together.

08/14/2005

Author's Note: The fifth, and possibly final, installment of The Coffee House series. I feel it has run it's course, but I may change my mind. Watch this space...

Posted on 08/14/2005
Copyright © 2024 Heide McAlister-Bates