At the Sidewalk Café

Here I am;

Concentrating on every scent;

On every sound;

On every sight;

The birds, trees, buildings;

All combining to create the tapestry.

Traffic speeding past;

Pedestrians hurrying along the sidewalk;

Children laughing;

Mothers coaxing;

Babies crying;

An elderly man cycles past;

His tires humming along the bricks;

A city bus stops along the curb;

It’s brakes hissing;

It’s engine idling;

It’s doors sliding open.

The sun is shining;

The café is getting busier;

College students, secretaries, old folks;

All taking seats;

It is the lunch hour.

Across the street, the University buildings loom;

Red brick and ivy;

The Student Union building;

It’s peaked roof;

It’s three floors;

Sun glinting off decorative windows;

Birds perched atop it.

Students and faculty;

Flinging book bags over chair backs;

Placing briefcases under tables;

Talking while sipping soft drinks and coffee;

Some drinking tea;

Some bighting into sandwiches;

Some eating spaghetti.

Over my book;

I noticed an attractive young woman;

Seated all by herself;

Appearing to be texting somebody;

Probably her boyfriend;

To my right;

A middle-aged couple sit;

In deep discussion;

He, a professor of history;

She, a professor of English.

Such is life at my sidewalk café.

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