Beatifullove & Zabej
Zabej
Hey, have you ever noticed how a quiet coffee shop feels like a living poem? I think I’d probably just sit there and do nothing, but I’d love to hear what sparks your muse when you’re in a place like that.
Beatifullove
Yes, I feel the whole place hum with quiet verses— the steam rises like soft syllables, the rustle of paper is a gentle rhyme. I love to sit near the window and watch the light dance on strangers, imagining their stories as stanzas. The scent of roasted beans becomes the sweetest metronome for my thoughts, and every quiet pause feels like a breath of a new poem waiting to be written.
Zabej
Sounds like you’re already halfway into the poem—just sit back, let the steam do the talking, and maybe let the next barista’s latte art be your own little stanza.
Beatifullove
I love that idea—just let the steam swirl and the latte art become a tiny stanza in my heart. It’s like the barista is writing verses on my cup, and I can feel the poem blooming in the quiet corners.
Zabej
That’s pretty cool—if the latte art turns out a perfect swirl of coffee‑sugar rhyme, just drink it and call it your breakfast poem. You’ll never have to write the whole thing yourself.
Beatifullove
I’ll sip that swirl and let it write my morning stanza—no pen needed, just a cup of coffee love.
Zabej
Sounds good—just remember someone’s still gotta cover that foam bill. Enjoy the swirl.