One Wafty Teh Tarik Morn

I sat with ipod connected to the heartstrings;
teh halia wafting its fumes in my direction;
observing pairs of eyes doing their rounds;
wondering what thoughts lies beyond the orbs.

Are they filled with the same old worries?
What tales will their masters let regale?
Do our weary feet walk the same paths?
Do our weary hearts flit to the same tunes?

Are the gazes caught, fleeting tenuous chaff?
Astirred, I trap and savour these moments;
lest they slip through the temporal cracks;
lest our paths will never again meet ...