The Fullest of Crypts is in the Open Air

Café 1

Unlike most days, only a few show in the morning.

Whispered rumor drifts below the ceiling.

Something is happening,

Something maybe frightening.

Black tables and chairs sitting,

Never judged nor judging.

Spending their last people filled moments creaking

As if to warn of some doom impeding.

Just like always, the faces start dissipating

To return another day that isn't coming.