I take the espresso outside
and tuck myself
in the corner
on a wide metal seat
at a small wooden table.

The air about me is forest
fresh, and brings hints
of the rain
which thumps the streets
beyond this awning.

My table is near
the flower shop next door;
kiwi daisies and sun orchards
peep from their bundles
to watch
what I’m writing
and gift me their fragrance.

It enhances the espresso
and the quiet splashes
of a distant rain.

A dark haired dog
lays his chin on his paws,
by the door, on the floor,
near my table.
His owner has stepped inside
for a coffee and croissant;
in his absence
the dog and I agree
to pretend he is mine.

So here I sit
at my wooden table,
sipping espresso
with my dog
and the flowers
and the distant rain.

2 Comments on “Aestheticism

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