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Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Cafe

You might have thought she was made of stone
Unshakable

If not for her fair skin, and her blushing cheeks
                                                                        Sublime

The wave in her tresses, the ocean in her eyes
Arrogant

She stood behind the counter, as still as a statue
Affect

Statuesque, silent, poised, determined to disallow
                                                                        Wrathful

She moves, and her gestures scrape me like a rake
Being

She takes my money, and pours my coffee

                                                                                                New York City

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