The café keeps a ghost of you somehow
A mocha stain, a memory that won't allow
Your chair still sits beside the wall
Waiting for a call that never comes at all
I come here every Sunday at the break of dawn
To sip the drink you loved until it's gone
The barista knows the way you used to be
But ghosts don't answer when you call — they just don't see
Steam rises like the dreams we used to share
Dispersing through the old café air
Your favorite table by the glass pane wide
Where morning light would catch the side of your face
I sit where you would sit and try to read
While mocha ghosts are all I seem to feed
The crossword sits unfinished on the page
The pen you left has slowly lost its age
Café walls remember all we gave
The laughter that we never tried to save
These ghosts don't haunt — they gently stay around
A warmth that never fades on hollow ground
I'll keep this table empty, just in case
The mocha ghosts might bring you back to this place
The café fills with morning's steady light
But you're no longer standing in my sight
Some visits are just rituals of hope
Some ghosts are what we need to help us cope
The mocha cools, the ghost still holds its ground
A love that nothing — sun or rain — could drown
