PINK-ROSE14

Hands through your hair. Curls rest upon a dainty shoulder. A beauty who loves the smell Of old books and coffee. Sits tucked into a corner Of the cafe. Crumbs saunter, Pages dog-eared, And coffee is consumed. She is a treat to my eyes. A fresh gust of wind Whirling through the sidewalk tables. Fluttering white napkins Only held down by elegant flatware. She is the last cheese danish In a clear, pastry case. If only our eyes would lock From across the cafe. We would share a moment. I would rise from my polished walnut chair And not spill my coffee, embarrassing myself. But stride with purpose to her nook. And the most unexpect