Posted by: Ron DuBour | April 16, 2015

Daily missive for Thursday the 16th of April.~by Peter Forster


 

 

Daily missive for Thursday the 16th of April.

Two for the price of one today.
Coffee shop sketches.

It was a struggle to smile
Holding the phone
In the crook of her neck.
And when the Barista passed the cup
She barely looked up
Biting her lip,
Touching it lightly,
With a finger tip.
Bright nail polish bled
Into her skin,
She tossed a napkin
Into the bin
And stifled a laugh
When the line went dead
‘Was it something I said?’
She mouthed,
Pulling up a different number.
Perhaps she could talk to a friend.
They all knew
How she had struggled
To accept they were through
And most had grown tired
Of hearing her sorry, sob story.
So she took a sip of coffee
And her pulse began to slow.
She knew the toll
Was beginning to show
On her complexion.
Wearing too much make up
To disguise the truth.
She ate too much chocolate
And skipped proper meals,

Wore a pair of old shoes
With worn down heels,
Her life was coming apart.
‘That’s what I get
For losing my heart.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
She heard the voice
And tilted her head,
Until she realised
It was not the phone
But the man standing alongside,
Her cheeks blushed red.
Gosh! He was cute.
With a charming smile
And a well cut suit.
Perhaps her day
Had taken a turn for the better.
She licked her lips
It made them wetter
And her eye lids began to flutter,
She spoke with barely a stutter,
‘Oh…I’m sorry…it was nothing
I was just thinking aloud.’
She flicked her hair,
And arched an eye brow,
As the sun peeped out
From behind a cloud.
‘But it doesn’t matter at all… not a bit.
Not really…not now.

Later that same day.

The liquid lunch
Has become the coffee morning
As the breakfast meeting
Stretches into brunch.
Young school run mums
Sit with well fed babies
On their still trim tums,
While they laugh and share grumbles
As junior tumbles
And crawls on the floor,
Making a crabwise dash
For the open door.
And the noise drones on,
The peace of the day
Long gone,
Punctuated now
By the smug laughter
Of the middle aged men
In business suits,
Discussing the price
Of a range of fruits,
They plan to display
At the front of the store.
‘The first thing to be seen
When customers step through the door.’
It is a natural reaction,
To bring the best out of people
It makes them feel healthy,
And less likely
To be cautious

Further down the isle,
When they fall into the
Golden trap,
Of Sugar salt and fat,
And say with a smile.
‘What’s so wrong about that?’
Believing all the while
They made their own choice,
Without any influence
From the pin striped suit
With the loudest voice.


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