Tuesday Coffee Time

As gloomy Mondays disappear like apparition mist
Morning of the next to wet the appetite of day
A nod to cheer the queue, no room for words
As words are all around
Overfilling cups, forgetting change
And these lips spill more than prose in flight

Tuesday coffee time is yours and theirs
Here is space to taste, to overhear, to tell
Open arms through windows
Who has the biggest smile
A table with its four, now eight
More to say, come and be, then gone

A passing beckon, stand here, no room to wait
Yet time to breathe, the pungent high
Of joy, or rush, of this , or that
Of nodding heads, and jingling coins to thank
A wink across the din
The hubbub that says ‘til the morrow

©2009 Hey Hey