“Butterflies and Foam” by Anonymous

A planter box grows succulents

In our old space

Every week, we’d sit there

Pouring out our souls, blending them together

You drank your coffee with ice

Mine was too hot to hold without a sleeve

I remember the butterflies

They capered when you slid your fingers into mine

When you bought the perfect muffin

And didn’t have to ask me which one I wanted

On the days when the air was bright and sharp and cold

I would lean into you and you would smile

Hold me close and wrap your hands around mine

And my coffee would keep our fingers warm

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