in a foreign city far
from the central square
an empty coffee shop
opens its windows
to the street.
a string of sad sweet notes
from a lone violin
played full blast
floats atop a scented
evening breeze.
in the mood
for some reprieve
i enter the cozy space
barely big enough
for ten
and finding a back corner
order a cup
filled to the brim,
and taking a sip —
take it all in.
