sky high poetry

quiet dawn, sun peeks above the horizon and rises slowly into a bright brisk january morning

yellow walls turn gold and i wait for the early crowd -
tired eyes, familiar faces, a cast of characters i know well
yet not at all.

large americano, black
couldn't tell you when her birthday is.
large cappuccino, whole milk
don't even know his name.
oat au lait
is she single or married? i've no clue.

an assortment of orders, of stories and flavors
each distinct and unique.

they make my morning, brighten my day, warm my winter-chilled heart with our easy conversation and shared smiles
not strangers, nor friends, they're my routine, regimen of sorts
a daily dose of friendly conversation. 

through warm cups of coffee we've become so familiar yet
so much still remains unknown.
my regulars, my favorite mysteries
differently eccentric,
a plethora of personalities.

i may just be the girl who makes their drinks and then, loyal customers
but one thing's for certain -

my mornings would be boring without them
and i'd like to think
they'd say the same about me.