Pretend that pine cones are a population fall decoration in the Lima Bean. From the POV of a worker there.
Pine Cones
Fall. I start rearranging pine cones in a bowl – the signal of the end of ice-cream and the start of the continuous flow of people desperate for our reveled blend of coffee and cocoa beans – when you walk in.
Young. Carefree. Happy.
You get your coffee.
You know each other's order. How sweet.
You laugh at each other, a joke.
You talk and share texts.
You send each other meaningful glances when you think the other isn't looking.
You pretend to think nothing of it when you catch your eye.
I carry on rearranging pine cones.
Next day, there you are again.
A basket of pine cones on an elbow. You talk about painting them.
Wishing you could paint them the exact color of your eyes.
Young. Carefree. Happy. In love?
I watch as you leave. Promises to meet again. A hug. No kiss.
No, no I don't think so.
I carry on rearranging pine cones.
It's getting colder. So are your hearts.
Every day, the same. You walk through the door.
You talk, you laugh, you flirt. But now?
You snap, you yell, you fight.
At least you didn't throw coffee.
Pine cones, yes; coffee, no.
I carry on rearranging pine cones.
You're sitting with a friend; a girl. You're wondering why you won't call.
Your friend sends a text to you as she pats you on the shoulder.
You come. You see the tears. Your face falls.
You apologize. Again. A hug.
You leave, smiles brighter than your shining eyes.
You hug again under the falling leaves. No kiss
I carry on rearranging pine cones.
Time passes. I start clearing away pine cones from a bowl – the signal of the start of ice-cream and the end of the continuous flow of people desperate for our reveled blend of coffee and cocoa beans – when you walk in. Hand in hand.
Young. Carefree. Happy.
You get your coffee.
You know each other's order. How sweet.
You laugh at each other, a joke.
You talk and share texts.
You share each other meaningful glances when you think no one else is looking.
You know something of it when you catch your eye.
Young. Carefree. Happy. In love?
I watch as you leave. Promises to meet again. A hug. a kiss.
Yes, yes I do think so.
I carry on clearing away pine cones.
Im actually quite proud of this. It seems to be made of honey and the lighter parts of clouds its so fluffy (Im gonna die).
BTW the worker thinks of them as one person if anyone's confused :D