A heady scent of vanilla,
The quiet whirring of coffee machines
accompanied by a crescendo of soft muttering
fill the place.
A lone white lily, head bowed,
rests in a green glass vase,
The hot chocolate still steaming
Scrawled notes, Littered pens
all set the table.
A cloud ambles its way,
almost by accident in the clear blue sky,
The playful wind ruffles the picnic blankets,
Laughter resides here,
You can almost reach out to touch it.
A quiet sigh? A rustle of paper,
You turn back to your work,
The melancholy a tight vice.
Written by Kriti Gopal for MTTN
Featured image by Aarathi Mohandas for MTTn
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