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

Walking through the doors of that sunlit cafe

It felt like Piccadilly Circus was on full display


Chairs scraping, steam hissing, all in the flow

My order, a double shot expresso, please, to go


That voice, oh, I have heard it before

Bourbon soaked laughter is a shock to my bones


I walk towards it, a willing captive in trance

Back of her head looks familiar at glance


Stealing a sideways glimpse at her austere stance

Premonition overwhelms me, is this a mischance


Face to face with a face that has haunted my dreams

Savannah, is it her, how could this be?


Hello Savannah, what a pleasant surprise

The one presumed dead, serendipitously alive


Quivering lips speak, you have me mistaken on sight

Rage shrouds my vision, how dare she deny


With unflinching hazel eyes, she stares resolutely

Unfolding her cane for me to finally see


Submitted: October 08, 2020

© Copyright 2021 poetrybyarchisha. All rights reserved.

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Thu, October 8th, 2020 3:40pm

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