Soapbox Poet

The Bakery Beat (a poem)

like a doughnut in a bakery rises and

ceases to exist after conversation and

a mug of coffee, she inhales sugar and

exhales spice. She’s sweet like a peanut

butter cookie, with a bite like black coffee.

She’s cold feet on a frigid day, wool socks

slacking. And when the time comes,

where gratifying sentences lead way for

loitering, she’ll stay. Because until the

bottomless mug leaves a circular stain,

peculiar curiosity and care for you

will keep me grounded all day.