Edited for iambic pentameter: (Shakespeare sonnet)
Coffee anyone?
I never walk to close to the sideline.
Lost in the vast crowds, I am just a sweat.
The tourists flock ahead, they all combine.
The man in white, now stares at me with threat.
Each car, a devil so filled up with hate.
Each little rover seems to be an ant.
One man, briefcase in hand, waves it as bait
As it stops, he gets in with a large pant.
5...4...The red hand seems to count down fast.
The lights seem as if not in my favor.
Now I can breathe when all the haste has passed.
Bracing myself, I smell the strong flavor
I lie and order iced coffee for two.
Her eyes are all I see in this cold brew
Coffee anyone?
I never amble too close to the outskirts of the sidewalk.
Blanketed by the crowds, I sweat approaching the bend.
Stalling, I allow even the tourists to surge ahead in a flock.
The once familiar man in white, now the means to an end.
Every car, a menacing devil. Every driver, unaware of his power.
And every pedestrian, a victim, surviving like an ant.
One suited culprit, briefcase in hand, hails a bright yellow monster.
It roars to a stop, gravel spits as he scurries in with a pant.
5…4…3… A face-off against the red threatening hand.
The lights mock me, as if finally satisfied.
My breaths stabilize when I successfully reach the mainland.
Bracing myself and embracing the potent smell, I traipse inside.
Ignoring the usual waves, l lie and order iced coffee for two
The brownness of her eyes is all I can see in the cold brew.
