Line up on the shelves,
Rigidly and ordered, among the din,
Of families and singles,
Lone shoppers who quietly sip
Beside children chomping on Pringles.
There is a distinct smell, I think,
That wafts through the air.
It's sweetness and coffee beans, playtime and ink.
A chuckle from a wrinkled wife
As her husband pulls a face -
A muffin chopped with a knife
And crashes with a thump on a plate.
Danish pastries, chocolate cake,
"Take your pick,"
As long as it's easy to make.
Streams of freezing air flood the room
When the door rattles open with someone
out of the gloom
The whole world is in here -
From paupers to gentry -
All slurping and humming in time:
A melody of tea. Quite sublime.
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