These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Voices in the Coffee Shop

"The macchiato, that's my cup,
without a flavor, sugared up.
Please, make with almonds, diary-free,
the milk I love, and add some ghee."

"That's a macchi cup, without the moo
to suit the tastebuds just for you.
May I write your name upon this cup
to let you know when it is up?"

"Of course. I'll sit down by myself,
and return when called to this lone shelf."
I'll watch some people, while I wait
to learn their work, their life, their date.

"The deadline's Tuesday. We can't sit
upon this deal, nor lazy get."
"I need a haircut 'fore I go.
Please, call me, if there's one 'No Show'."

So many people miss the point
of coffee shops, that peace anoint.
They drink their cups, and do their stuff,
then leave when they have had enough.

How many sip, and wait to soak
the things uncommon for fast folk?
Aromas lift the worthy nose
up to the heights, like bless-ed rose.

The quiet twitter of the joys
the coffee bean with friends employs.
The gentle moments with a book
find taste, aromas, quilted nook.

"I've never tasted warmth like this.
These coffee beans gave me a kiss."
"The sweetness of this well-kept room
makes hope within me start to bloom."

"We must come here, tomorrow e'en.
I've never known such a quiet scene."
"I'll get the tab when we return.
Great lifetime's peace, like this, unearned."

The coffee shop is not a place
of background cups through which we race.
The coffee cup is our new friend,
who listens well our nerves to mend.

Our daily rush through daily chores
makes coffee shops of peace much more.
Essential moments there we spend,
before our sanity could rend.

The name he wrote upon the cup
is calling me. It's hot, and up.
Now, stare, I will, off into space
to sip my cup, and drink with grace.

by Jay O’Toole
on August 29th, 2022