Tea Sea Lost

-
Remnants of the rain
touch the tip of her shoulders
as she enters the teahouse,
lowering her umbrella,
ready to let it shake off
the gloom that accumulated
            on its blouse.
She walks in, pensive,
thoughts running marathons
in her mind as she mechanically
          heads to the counter.
        She makes an order,
the woman at the counter nodding,
                     knows her, knows the pattern.
Lightly she sits
at a table far enough away
                                                   from the door and everyone else
                                                     to muse about nothing else
but the dull ache of  unrequitedness.
Considers confession but fears
the potential negative response
                                 to her hopes and dreams.
She begins to sweat and shake,
scenarios burning in her mind,
trying to make up her mind
whether to just try
                            or
                                give it all up to God.
One or the other,
                        one or the other,
                                                   one or the other...
                                                                                 the woman at the counter
                                         calls her name.
She stands, picks up her drink
                                                and returns to her thoughts.
                                            Oh, how she seems so very lost.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The word was "teahouse". Hope you liked it!

Cheers!

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