Coffee Shop Chronicles, Part 3
I want to say
that my hands
have grown tough,
heat resistant,
willing to burn
from repeated
exposure.
But I can’t.
I flinch at hot bowls
and boiling water.
I protect my fingers
and cherish my palms.
They are still
soft.
6 thoughts on "Coffee Shop Chronicles, Part 3"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
A simple but true sentiment expressed beautifully.
Really lovely. That last phrase makes the poem mysteriously resonant.
Visceral images
I’m enjoying your series.
The barista turns inward; the sequence gains new depth.
Keep the Coffee Shop Chronicles Coming!