The hum of conversation

clinking glasses -coffee cups

The buzz of the grinder

People rushing – people resting

conversation and solitude

The local coffee spot

whitewashed, shiplapped

old hardwoods with a story to tell

I sit alone

I search for an eye, maybe  a smile

waiting, hoping, searching

I see…Mothers and daughters

friends and lovers

business in the making.

Who sat in this seat before me?

What story did they tell?

Does anyone care about mine?