Cold Coffee Poem by Charles Pullen
Cold Coffee
Nervous fingertips glide
Across faded table top,
Leaving a evaporating trail
Like faceless ghost.
I study the streaks
On the glass door;
With finger prints
That linger
Like unwanted vagrants,
Also faceless.
I listen to the
Hum in the silence
And watch the dance
Of dead leaves.
And lifelessly;
I drink cold coffee.
Friday, May 26, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: dreams,life,reflections,social comment,time
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5/3/2024 7:06:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
