Coffee Shop: Poetry

The clean wash of brick
with the green awning
was a neighborhood staple
waxing fifty years young,
remodeled with fresh tables
that brought an abundance
of eager customers rushing
through the shiny white doors

Yet She never noticed the abode
with its crystal gloss of broad window
and the ivy growing from the sill
in frothy exuberance beneath
elaborate Old English lettering boasting 
"Fifty-six years of fine service"

Until She saw Him through the pane
with his hands wrapped
around a custom coffee,
eyes alight with familiar glow
as He gazed across the table
at someone who wasn't Her.

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