Fri, 10/04/2013 - 16:34 -- dosaja

Out of place, he sits there.

As though ignorant

Of judgment and pity.

Dirt in the creases of his coat,

the pleats of his scarf,

the wrinkles of his face

Disappearing into his aged beard.

Hands around the circle of a cup

Exploring the science of heat and entropy.

He feels the tenderness and kindness

Seeping through.

He rubs his hands,


Appreciative of a small moment,

His nose in the stream of steam.

He sips with his eyes closed.

His smile widens.

The short-lived warmth

Travels down his spine.


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