I still Have Coffee

(C) 2021 by Howard Dart Humeston

 

The crisp breeze blows dry leaves into a spiral

scattering them down the road 

as life had twisted my dried out soul 

nudging me down that same 

death laden path. 

 

At my age so many of life’s diversions

have evaporated, expired.

 Romance, sex, sport, aspirations and goals

 All that endures is the cold wooden slats of 

the park bench.

 

I suck frosty air into my lungs,

exhaling grey fog as I lift my head skyward. 

Shredded inky clouds scratch the blue sky, 

pigeons dance naked by my feet.

 

I sip the hot rich coffee

as the sun’s golden light seeps through the trees

And I smile.

 

I still have coffee.