Tiny Reminders
The summer day held its breath,
The trees waiting, still, for rain.
The sidewalk shimmered,
Remembering what water was like.
A woman stepped out of her car,
Phone cradled to her cheek.
Like it protected a tiny heart,
Something you’d whisper gently to.
She moved past the shade tree,
Toward the glass doors.
A gateway to eternal fall,
Sweet lies, told for our comfort.
Inside, the coffee steamed,
A small rebellion,
Against the cold she chose,
To forget the world outside.
