Waiting for Patience

 

In a city quite far away,

Where things all went a certain way,

There lived a man who worked quite a lot,

But never liked what he really got.

All the work and hours he spent,

Happiness came and happiness went,

Nothing really made him feel...satisfied,

Nothing filled that empty feeling inside.

The man reminisced of the days when he was young,

Thoughts of joy, bliss and love he tightly clung,

Of longer summer days and warm moonlight nights,

Of a large corn maze and the love of his sight.

Too soon did those days come and and pass,

Now just a small framed picture placed behind the glass,

He was told work hard and those days will return,

But the more he worked, the stronger his wish of simpleness would yearn.

He soon forgot that feeling of young blissful youth,

As he spent more in and more hours in his office forgetting the truth,

From home to work and right back again,

He made his walk through snow hail or rain.

And on his route he always made on small stop,

Patience Blends, the name of his favorite coffee shop,

Each day he would wait always eight minutes at this spot,

No longer no shorter, always eight minutes on the dot.

The taste of this coffee is quite difficult to explain,

If work is what made him crazy than this made him sane,

The flavor brought a feeling that tingled his inside,

Giving life to feeling he thought long ago has died.

Each day the old owner would hand the man his drink,

He would pay him the money before a blink,

For although the beverage was quite supreme,

Waiting for that coffee would mike him a little late it would seem.

One day he thought to ask the owner to change,

So that his coffee and work would fit in his busy time range,

The owner replied ''I'm sorry,'' with a grin,

''I am done when I'm done that is when I am fin.''

The man with addiction, set out on a mission.

To create the drink, that made him stop and think.

Of days long ago with reminition.

He went to the shop and get even a drop,

Of the owner's secret brew,

For not a cafe in town,

Or any restaurant around,

Could not repeat the drink nor had a clue how to.

The owner said with weary eyes,

''Ah yes my recipe, my prize.''

He furrowed a brow and took a seat down.