Tense from fatigue and frustration,
The poet’s hand tightens around his favorite pen
Outside the blustery winter storm prevents any hope
Of a double espresso
Or another conversation with the pretty barista
He thinks of her pleasant smile
And naïve innocence
Reminding him of his young wife
His grip tightens at the inevitable reference
That invades his mind and pierces his soul
She is gone
He sighs deeply
In unison with the howling wind
____________________
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