fork in hand
twist over the stainless steel
the clinking of glassware against dishes
echoes across the café's cobblestones
a flaky pain au chocolat sits to the left
of a mother and her saucer-eyed child
cool air ruffles the dark skirts of women
sipping and savoring rich espressos
an accordionist has just started up
his joyful playing a few meters away
coins drop into his felt hat and he smiles
it smells like cigarettes and happiness
and an indescribable je ne sais quoi
two old men with cigars for lunch laugh at greedy pigeons launching themselves
at helpless tourists
an iron-wrought gate is the only thing left
standing between you and this scene.
an iron-wrought fate brings you away from it.
YOU ARE READING
little blue flowers
PoetryA collection of original poetry by Ella Petrichor. Highest Rank: #152 in Poetry (6/14/18) **COMPLETED** ::Excerpt:: "betrayal along the seams" A melancholic pallor lining her face She stood in the doorway Beating the shit out of that old rug As thou...
