Scents hold the time, everyday early.
Stir those old visions.
Tall marble, wool and silk and perfume,
coffee, makeup, paused impatience.
Brass clanging and used with full purpose.
Milk cartons, cups and subdued polite yelling.
Passing, coming and going and staying.
Back again, here again.
A creased hat holds pace for the queue.
And a name called with a wink moves the room along.
Permission it seems is given to this place.
To wait to start a day.
Early smiles are not the norm, we're in this together.
Toes tap and steps lift...
Scooting through a glass door paper chalice in hand.
