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Coffee Shop Blues

Posted on August 4, 2022
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Love ballets playing in the background Out the window I see the transition from night’s darkness to morning’s light.

Two middle aged men sit in the far corner. The bald-headed man listens to the other with a beard.

Next to the door sits a gray-haired gentleman wearing black rimmed glasses. Between bits from his breakfast burrito, he reads something on his phone.

A woman’s voice sings a song of love lost.

The opposite corner sits three gentlemen, in their mid thirties. They appear to doing a Bible study.

In walks a police officer. He is a sergeant. I can tell that by the strips on his left shoulder. Looking out into the parking lot, I see his motorcycle.

Two male voices singing harmony. They are followed by another group singing. Both sing about wanting to meet someone to love.

More men and women start to walk through the door. The young oriental lady behind the counter greets them with a smile. A little conversation surrounds the customer’s order. The customers get their orders and retreat to a table of their liking.

“And they should say they care about me…” fills the air.

What about me? Sitting here listening to the music that is flooding the coffee shop. What am I feeling? Sitting here enjoying my beverage and breakfast?

A woman’s voice sings. The drummer taps the side of a drum with his drum stick. Backup singer sing, “Woooo…”

Sun beams slowly move toward the front door. Soon it will enter through the glass. Those sitting along the glass front will have to move or bare the brightness.

It is another hour before I have to leave for work. I need prepare for the day. Read email and review daily duties. Enough, sitting here watching patrons coming and going, I am wasting of my time away.

No, it is not a waste of time. I am practicing my writing. Creating words and phases that best describe my environment. If I am to become a writer that influences those who read my words, I need to practice. Practice with a purpose. That purpose must point toward a specific direction.

“Every day,” comes the words from the speaker above my head on the left.

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