Small Town Cafe

The sweet scent of cinnamon swirls through the air,

Greeting me and my friends as we walk in

Laughing at nothing, for no reason at all.

The bell chimes and lets in a cool gust air,

Quickly drowned out by the clamor of children.

They drag their mothers by the hands and trip

Over the uneven tiles.

Careful to balance our nutmeg and cream,

My friends and I carry our burning paper cups,

Plopping down at a table soft with age

With matching deep-set seats.

Laughter and light conversation fill in around us,

Floating and dancing together to meet everyone in the room.

Time eventually insists us to leave,

Pushing in our chairs and beckoning us out the door.

The winter air stains our cheeks pink,

White flakes dust our eyelashes,

A sudden gust of wind hides the shoppe from our sight.

Just for a moment though, a glint of light shows through.

A wink promising to keep our happiness safe.