countertop

Mint leaves over ice and sweet strings played softly
Caressed to life underneath the gliding words of a language infused
To my side dates in cardboard, almonds in plastic
The counter top a junction where journeys meet friends, smiles and fresh flowers;
A Monday afternoon the Envy of most,
Sea cleansed, sidewalk warmed,
I'm not guilty, I'm alone, there's a difference
And the difference is these witness eyes
A happy enough spectator
Red menu silver ashtray in this cosy street side niche, spilling out
Melancholy tastes good