I’m lost. And aimlessly
I stare
At the dessert counter.
I came here
every day this week,
Begging God to bring her.
‘Til in, walks in
to here again
The hottest coffee cup
She hits me with
espresso shots,
The beans are grinding up.
“There’s nothing wrong
with you.”
Your hair, like chocolate
drizzle, falls
Down lips of raspberry.
Blackberry eyes,
strawberry cheeks
You’re soft and buttery…
This place is full
of jokers, dear
Another place, let’s meet.
Like two kids with
the pastry box
Let’s run to eat what’s sweet.
the fragrance writer 