Fireworks
5 A.M. and the coffee shop opens.
Night still grips the day.
Laughter bursts from the back,
Fireworks sparkling beneath the stars.
A couple steps in from the dark,
One chasing coffee, the other dancing with joy.
A regular follows, fresh off a night shift, I think.
She’s too pretty, too polished for this hour.
The cafe goes quiet again.
Then the laughter returns, soft and sudden.
I’m lucky to witness these moments,
Sitting silent, ignored, a fixture here.
A woman in crisis arrives.
Eyes gleam with unshed tears.
Her abuser lurks close,
Hissing lies, smothering her light.
The fireworks were quiet after that.
