Coffee Shop Observations.

I see a man,

Amidst the scurried atmosphere,

Move slowly, intently, each step calculated..

As if traversing through a flowing stream,

Or a shrouding fog -

This man moves through air like a leaf through a stream,

Carrying its perpetual flow…

He dresses in shades of grey,

Not sombre, monotonous greys,

But ashen - brushed greys that deliver an air of sophistication,

Of quiet humility.

Upon his head

Rests a flat cap - To match the gentle, almost withdrawn

Tone of his blazer.

Black, fingerless gloves

Reveal leathery skin and

Worn fingertips.

A sterling silver ring resides on the bridge of his finger to the right of his middle.

In his hands,

Upon his lap,

A tattered book,

Whose pages whisper secrets of old.

An ancient, timeless kind of wisdom

Long forgotten.

I wish to read the book,

I want to know of the stories it speaks,

With its straight lines and squiggles etched upon

Its yellow, rugged pages -

Nicotine, coffee-stained pages.

I imagine they were once ivory..