PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

She was the small, old woman that sat at the booth across the aisle from me every morning



She quietly hummed random tunes as she stirred her black coffe with a silver spoon



She wore the same moth-eaten clothes everyday, along with the same simple hairdo and lovely smile



Then, every couple of minutes or so, she would lift her head to let her eyes slowly wonder the 50-style diner



And as she did this, she just smiled, eyes gleaming and she seemed so happy just watching people go about their lives while she went about hers



Then she would slowly raise her warm cup to her thin lips and winse as the hot liquid slipped over her tongue and down her throat



And after every sip of coffe, she traced the rim of the cup with her tiny index finger, her old jewelry glistened in the sunlight that peaked through the side blinds



Then she would pull her jacket close to her and wait



Wait for something she wasn't quite sure of



Something that she never got



And that was her life...



The diner, the coffee, the beautiful smile and her wondering eyes