Tiny Reminders

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.

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