She didn’t hear the waiter ask
How would you like your coffee?
Adrift in her unknown,
simplicities were impossibilities.
Her life line had been cut.
The only thing she could feel
was the warmth of the cup
cradled in her hands.
The only thing she wanted
was the warmth of his hand.
She wanted her coffee with him.
Joining with d’verse Poetics in response to the artwork of Kelvin S.M. The Widow