Barista

Recently, I came across some of my old poems, some of them I remember well as to why I wrote them and what each word meant to me at the time; some, some are shaded by the clouds of age…faded jeans in a dimly lit closet.  I will share from time to time.

Barista

By Jay LeBorgne

Sometimes morning, sometimes noon
Never do I see you under the moon 

Our time is short as it must be
Your life you; my life me 

Chit chat, talk talk, and so and so
So much kept inside, got to run, got to go 

As I depart I wonder, I do
Does a thought of me ever come to you? 

Moments come and go, throughout the day
Never will I mention, nor, will I say 

Hair that flows of chestnut brown
Whether it up or whether it down 

Always leaves an open face
With a smile that radiates the place 

Only a blind man could not see the sign
The youth you hold that I long left behind 

These are a few of the thoughts I keep inside
For fear that you will run and hide 

This is how it should be it seems
We of different paths, we of different dreams

Jay 🙂