In the heart of the city's bustling square,
I took a seat, feeling the surrounding stare.
Strangers' eyes, some curiously met mine,
Like a new exhibit, under the coffee shop's sign.
Curiosity bubbled, to the rim of my cup,
I sipped my latte, trying to look up.
Why this place?
The question danced, whimsically free,
Wishing perhaps, I was under a tree,
Lost in a book or in tunes' embrace,
Far from this ever-watchful place.
The barista, her badge shining in glee,
Asked for my order, and name with glee.
Just another order, for her routine day,
Yet, each of us has stories, in a unique way.
My tales, my dreams, wrapped around my core,
A world of adventures, love, and lore.
Is someone watching, in this crowded spree,
Catching snippets of tales, from coffee devotees like me?
Around, stories unravel, some silent, some loud,
In this little haven, where thoughts are unbound.
One lady, with tattoos and piercings galore,
Sat with grace, her presence hard to ignore.
She winked, and said, "This is my favorite joint",
Her laughter infectious, as if proving a point.
Live for moments, she whispered in cheer,
For in these small instances, life's truths appear.
Now many mornings later, in the same spot I sit,
Savoring memories, as the sun is lit.
Every encounter, every whispered tale,
Adds flavor to life, in details so frail.
