When the heart fails as refuge
And crows peck out my soul's eyes
On a Sunday
I find solace in the simple things
Dining out to an Italian meal for one,
Sitting here in Starbucks
Nursing a triple shot Venti cappuccino,
Listening to music and patrons laughter
Watching a little boy with his dad
Play in city square's fountain.
I see two lovers sitting in chairs
Her hand on his shoulder,
Fingers in his hair
She looks at him while he tells her a story.
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