Took myself out for coffee,
me, my cup, and a chair with too much attitude.
It leaned across, smirked—
long time, no see.

Rain slapped the window like an artist with a brush—
look, I cleaned up your mess,
gave the streets a fresh face.

Leaves outside went full yoga instructor—
breathe in, babe,
oxygen’s on the house.

The blinds rattled like nosy neighbors—
sooo… what secrets you hiding back there?

And my thumb?
Didn’t even stop for a coffee break—
words just spilled,
like gossip from the universe
straight onto my screen.

So yeah, cheers—
to coffee that listens,
chairs that sass,
rain that shows off,
and poems that don’t ask permission