Standing in the café the world a blur

Standing in the café, the world a blur,

a child presses their face, soft and round,

leaving behind stories where hearts stir,

just tiny fingerprints on glass, profound.

Each smudge holds a memory, a wish to explore,

as laughter dances on air, bright and free,

every trace a longing, each moment a door

into dreams where they can just be.

In this simple act, lives intersect,

a moment of wonder etched on the pane,

reminding us softly, without pretext,

that even in glass, we leave our names.