My Quaint Kaffeetisch
In the clustered hustle of an early day,
I stare along the Bächle
Surrounded by cobblestones,
Whilst culture seeps through every corner.
I inhale the sweet aroma
As steam reaches tip of my lips,
Bitterness of morning waking my heavy lids.
As I sit in my quaint kaffeetisch
Caramel shaded rings
Stained in designated placements
Of each rich artistic license
Painted on the canvas of my tisch.
Enveloping me in a warm hug
Of the salubrious morning air
Swirling the foamy cream at my quaint kaffeetisch.
Filled with stories of each decorated ring
The discovery of literary gold,
A rendezvous for star-crossed lovers,
Or a nest for contemplation and thought.
Apparitions visit me
Whispering their tales
While I watch the city waken
All recorded on my quaint kaffeetisch.
My quaint kaffetisch.