The Coffee House

 
 
 
 
 
I like to sit in a coffee house
And see the world pass by.
 
 
I love to look at the elegant bags
Swing to the music
Of the pencil heels
That clatter smartly
Against the marble.
Here, life is a friend-
It sits with you
And drinks the heady aroma
Of the coffee beans.
 
 
I love to drink the tropical aroma
In the chilled coffee house.
 
I look at the neatly arranged
Photographs
of past revolutions.
I admire the ruggedness
Of Che Guevara
Who peers down the wall
And approves
my thoughts
On Hegel and Kant.
 
 
These days, the coffee house
Is the safest place to be in.
 
The frontiers of my world
Are marked
by the barricades
That are put up by the police
around the market.
The barb-wires are there
To protect my thoughts
and to keep out
the reactionaries.
 
 
Here, at the coffee house,
reason reigns supreme.
 
***
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About Abhishek

I will let the blog speak for itself...or, at times, for me. View all posts by Abhishek

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