The spectacular rise of the morning sun
is made more appealing with scent of fresh coffee.
Smoke from my cigar adding presence.
Content in my world of one.
I sit alone under a warm shade
delighting to see the world rush past without pause,
ignoring its hustle and bustle -
for I am but a distant spectator of its meaning.
An observer of life's idiosyncrasies without criticism.
It's 10 o'clock and my cappuccino soon arrives.
I remain patient.
I am patient.
Morning's perfect tonic respected.
A lady close to me smiles behind her DG sunglasses.
Stunning features partially hidden by her wide brimmed hat
her cream and black dress matching perfectly.
Chic, sophisticated without complex.
I gently rest my spoon on the froth
and watch it slowly sink before I begin to stir.
I feel a sudden warmth.
Is this the mixture of love?
I return her smile,
not noticing my coffee has gone cold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem