She Writes Thursday, December 27, 2018Monday, December 24, 2018Ken Across the café, she pauses her writing. Perhaps she saw or felt me staring. Is that a notebook, workbook, or journal? I want it to be her poetry. The only heat here comes from coffee. Share this poem:TwitterFacebookTumblrRedditEmailLinkedInWhatsAppPinterestLike this:Like Loading... Related