The scent of roasting beans, whipped in with cream and milk

sounds like the saccharine crystals on my tongue

laced with the feeling of solace in a crowd.

Wisps of yesterday’s lucid dreams,

drowns in the simmering brew of banter.

Buzzing voices like the hum of a bee, 

I lower the volume and the silence grows louder.

A room once filled like my morning cup of coffee,

now lies stranded in a desert of contagions.

A window creaks open, ushering the wind inside

that pervades this void like chatter on a busy day.

The desolate chairs echo of rushed goodbyes,

polite chit-chat and unrequited feelings.

A corner shop humming with the music of machines

is now a fading mahogany stain on a map 

hanging in the balance of obscurity.