🥤Would I Lie to You, Honey?
In the cool light of the laundromat’s glow,
Where cycles spin and chimes of machines ring,
I find a spot, unconventional yet bold,
Amid the whirring hum, my thoughts take flight.
A basket filled with hues, both bright and odd,
While next to me, a bottle, still and sealed,
An untouched Diet Pepsi waits in pause,
Its label glistening, a promise unkept.
The rows of washers stand like sentinels,
Each one a story wrapped in cotton threads,
While water churns, and soap dances in foam,
The mundane blends with magic, soft and sweet.
I watch the clothes, their journeys intertwined,
A bluesy shirt from summer’s fleeting hand,
And pants that grip the memories of fall,
All swaying in this tide of clean regret.
I ponder on the life that clothes can weave,
The tales they hide within their woven seams.
A kid with chocolate stains upon his jeans,
A lover’s whisper stitched in softest wool.
The universe unfolds within this quest,
Each cycle spins a phase, a place in time.
The noisy laughter of the washing drums,
Echoes like joy against the muted hum.
Yet here sits still, cola in my hand,
An offering to help the hours pass,
But like the clothes I wash, it remains calm,
A lonely witness in this bustling space.
I take a sip, the bubbles play and burst,
But still, I hesitate—this choice I make.
What brings more joy, the drink or quiet thought?
Perhaps the pause is sweeter than the sip.
And so I settle deep into the scene,
Where strangers share their lives in whispered tones,
A mother folds a shirt with tender care,
While children chase their shadows ’round the room.
Unconventional, I rise, break from my spot,
And linger near the window's verse of light,
To watch the world unfold beyond the glass,
A laundromat, a refuge and a stage.
The flavors of the day blend inside me,
As people come and go like tides of life.
Each face a canvas, painted with their dreams,
While I remain—a girl on the fringe,
My bottle still untouched, a side remark,
The neatness of my thoughts holds greater weight.
In these small moments, magic coexists,
And in the whirl of life, I find my peace.
So here I stand, a part of all that spins,
Embracing that which seems both odd and rare,
With bottle close, I let the moment breathe,
The simple beauty found in what remains.
The joy of pause amid the rhythmic whirl,
The quiet knowing wrapped in fabric folds,
And though the soda calls, I’m rather drawn,
To thoughts that flow like water through the drum.
The laundromat—a world of common threads,
Yet in its midst, I’ve found a different path,
Where all can wash away and start anew,
And on the shelves of life, dreams slowly rise.
So let the bottle rest and breathe with me,
As all our stories mingle, dance, and spin,
Each item, like our thoughts, deserves a turn,
In this vast cycle, find what makes you whole.
