Cups on the table only
leave coffee’s residue
Curbstones are scattered on the floor of cafe
Your tongue is dried
your mouth has no words
Up to the tablet you
make as a latest affair
Enticing more than a
cutest hostess
The deep yearning has
been shared
But the cave you
haven’t left yet
For coming back to
home
Having changed to be a
problem shed
An arena of
enmity
After the tables have
been empty, you
Leave cafe being as
desolate as an old grave
: The place of your
cadaver will be entombed
No sowed flowers no
smoking incenses
Together with dead people side of the fight
arena-Sri Wintala Achmad-
