Mr without a name

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 02, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 02, 2017



Mister without a name.

Sat alone. Warming

A cold wooden chair.

One at a table for four.

Solitude for company.


Bipolar climates of hot and cold.

Savoury and Steamy,

Polar ends of

Sweet and Creamy.

Silent magnetic bonds.


Gentleness tugs at me. 

Unsure of its roots, for

Between sat a block.

A family of different sizes,

Capsules of tangled stories.


Blocks melt to reveal

Wise eyes hidden,

Behind white hair.

Our eyes met.

Solitude meets company.


Nonchalant stirring of

Black coffee.

That’s how we spoke.

Metal clinks against tough glass.

Diffusing aromas of wisdom. 


I replied in,

Plastic scratches against paper cup,

Sweet ice cream interruptions.

We would’ve looked like,

Grandfather and daughter.


If not for the threshold of a table,

I would’ve known his name.

If not for space named awkwardness,

Our eyes wouldn’t dart in

Desperate avoidance.


Common in thought, different in all else.

Briefcase threw out important papers, while

Imagination drew out a poem.

Connections blind to differences, for

Solitude needs company. 

© Copyright 2018 Jayee S.H.. All rights reserved.

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