Patience, anticipation
I sit quietly in my room waiting for the time to come
After so many days keeping us silently apart,
The minutes feel like hours slowly creeping by,
Hours upon hours until I can be wrapped in our warm essence and aroma
Filled with the sweet taste of love,
I can already feel your arms around me as I make my way down Decatur Street,
Your golden brown skin glistening in the light of the brightly illuminated café;
My heart races with anticipation and zest as I see you enter
With a white powder-like cloth covering yourself,
Oh, dear Café Du Monde,
I thank thee for reuniting me with my beignet
Torre, age 16