Photo by Pema Lama on Unsplash

The wind chime that attaches to the front door sways,
Singing a melody to welcome a new customer.

The rich air fills with the scents of Arabica beans,
A sweet yet earthen taste; a complex flavour palate.

The rustic-wooden tables contrast with the black chalkboard,
Listing all the versatility made of coffee beans…

Latte, Mocha, Americano, Ristretto, Lungo, Affogato.

The youthful and fresh beats of jazz pierce through the ears,
Calming the world outside and inside the shop.

The darkness of the evening shines through the window,
Along with the lightened lamp poles that tower in the autumn sky.

The cars rush by, as the lovers stroll along the sidewalk,
Hand-in-hand and hearts-in-hearts.

Inside the coffee shop, the young late-shift barista completes his final chores,
And a young storywriter types her fingers along her keyboard; sipping her espresso.

Above her focused expression and brunette ponytail,
The celebrated albums of reputed jazz musicians line up in single file…

A Love Supreme, Kind of Blue, Time Out, Blue Train, Saxophone Colossus.

Every note of piano and saxophone stir around the shop as the lights switch off,
Interacting with the farewells between the writer and the young barista.

As the doors of this coffee house shut,
The remnants of the beans’ distinct aromas flood the rooms with its opulent presence.

As the doors of this coffee house shut,
The memories of the jazz notes melt together; waltzing into a placid bubble.

Within this rustic-old coffee house,
Our senses float together into a sea of tranquility.

A sea that emerges from the depths of what our hearts can find serene,
From what our hearts can hear; to what our hearts can sniff.

To what our hearts can feel.

I’m Amisha Dalaya! You may have caught on… my pen name’s “Miha”. My life’s young; filled with sciences and adventures. Let’s say that’s where my story begins.