Welcome, loves, to the P’osies Cafe Series, a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative. Our name, a playful blend of “Poetry” and “Stories,” perfectly captures the essence of what we’re about. In this series, my best friend and fellow writer will join me at our writers’ cafe with our laptops, pens and paper, and a couple of iced mochas or chai lattes. We’ll be sharing our own work—from whispered verse to sprawling tales—and we invite you to listen, reflect, and get lost in the power of storytelling.
Some paths don’t make sense until you look back and see the world you helped heal. Trust your calling. Trust your glow. The journey is worth it. 🌍💛
Welcome, loves, to the P’osies Cafe Series, a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative. Our name, a playful blend of “Poetry” and “Stories,” perfectly captures the essence of what we’re about. In this series, my best friend and fellow writer will join me at our writers’ cafe with our laptops, pens and paper, and a couple of iced mochas or chai lattes. We’ll be sharing our own work—from whispered verse to sprawling tales—and we invite you to listen, reflect, and get lost in the power of storytelling.
Today at the P’osies Cafe we have Part 3 of Mr. Daniels and His Cup, written by me, Tannika Nikeya.
In today’s story we have humility, hope, humor… and a coffee machine about to snap. So sit back and enjoy.
Part 3 Daytime Crew
(c) 2025
Mr. Daniels nodded his head, his face serene, and proceeded back to his seat at his usual table in the middle of the café.
“Shrek was about to blow his lid about his darn wallet he lost.” exclaimed Gregory. The café broke out into united chuckles.
The momentary burst of laughter then faded, leaving the familiar, comforting clatter of cups and the low hum of conversation. The café went on about their usual routines and morning bustle serving each customer and sending them on their way with their favorite beverages and pastries.
Mr. Daniels watched the staff settle back into their rhythm. His coffee, from which he had just taken a tiny sip, sent up a faint, comforting steam.
He noted Kimberly wiping down the counter with long, firm strokes. She was such a pleasant young lady who embodied the virtue he just told the man in the expensive blue suit to possess. She served more than just coffee; she served humility and patience that accompanied her smile. She doesn’t know her power yet, but it is immense, he thought.
Next was Lesliana, shy and timid, back at the register, her big smile reappearing as she thanked a customer. Lesliana worked to help pay for her college classes. It wasn’t easy to juggle her studies and a job but she needed the money for school. This was her seventh year at a four-year university, but this was her last year. My last year of college she would tell Mr. Daniels. Many of them mistake velocity for progress, Mr. Daniels mused, but patience and trusting God’s timing is a virtue. She carries hope, a quiet fire that needs only gentle tending.
And Gregory, who had a rough childhood in foster care, was already making the next customer laugh. He thought his job was only making the latest latte or frappuccino. It was not. His task is the balancing of sorrow and bringing joy to customers, Mr. Daniels thought as he observed him. For Gregory, laughter was a mechanism he used to aid himself in difficult times. And now the laughter he coaxes out is a necessary pressure release for the souls gathered there.
Mr. Daniels folded back his newspaper and set it on the table next to his cup of coffee. He often poured his attention into the stories of the daytime crew more than he read the newspaper.
Kimberly would often talk about her parents. Her dad was gravely ill. As often as she smiled, no one knew just how worried she was about her dad who had lost so much weight and could barely walk now, and her mom who looked after him. After work, Kimberly would stop by to check on her dad and her mom. This Saturday, she looked forward to sitting in with her dad while her mom got a 60-minute massage courtesy of Kimberly. But at this moment, worry lay right behind her smile because her mom reported her dad hasn’t been eating much.
She had prayed with her mom after her mom gave her the news, trying to chuck fear aside and nurture hope for a miracle.
Mr. Daniels knew about her dad as he had listened intently to every detail Kimberly shared about him. He had watched as her colleagues wrapped their arms around her and assured her it would be okay.
Kimberly threw herself into her work, making sure the cafe ran smoothly and delivered those same cozy vibes it gave each day. The sun settled in just as the crew did, alternating spots and illuminating the cafe through the big picture window. The crew picked up their pace as the store became more alive.
Just then zzzz, zap could be heard and then a pop.
Gregory jumped back from one of the major coffee machines, with his eyes wide and his head leaned back.
Hey Friends, welcome back to the P’osies Cafe Series! We apologize that P’osies Cafe was closed yesterday. Some things came up and we got a bit delayed. Nonetheless, we are open today and have a new treat here at the cafe: part five of A New Hope.
Enjoy!
She walked forward not because she had all the answers, but because she believed again. Her hope returned—reminding us that new beginnings often start at our lowest point.
Check out today’s treat:
A New Hope Pt 5 (c) 2025
Written by Saneatra Polk
Please click here if you are unable to see the video here. It will take you directly to the video. I Keep getting error codes.
Hey Friends, welcome back to the P’osies Cafe Series! We apologize that P’osies Cafe was closed yesterday. Some things came up and we got a bit delayed. Nonetheless, we are open today and have a new treat here at the cafe: part two of Mr. Daniels andHisCup of Coffee.
Enjoy!
Mr. Daniels and His Cup of Coffee: The Lost Wallet (c) 2025
But Kimberly didn’t think he was rich at all. She had watched him on numerous occasions pull out coins and count them slowly, then hand them gently over to her or one of the baristas in exchange for his routine coffee.
And today was the same. Mr. Daniels limped in, gave his usual nod and proceeded to the line. When it was time for him to order his morning coffee or shall we say daily coffee. He would sip on this one cup his entire stay. Kimberly appeared from the back with a stack of cups in her hands. “Hi, Mr. Daniels, good morning!” “How are you today?”
“I’m well, Kimberly,” he slowly replied. “I hope all is well with you, today.”
“Oh, Mr. Daniels, this morning has been rough.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that Kimberly,” Mr. Daniels empathized. “But don’t worry, things will work out just fine,” he continued.
Kimberly let out a sigh and then released a smile. Mr. Daniels, in the midst of paying for his coffee, pulled 16 quarters out of his coin pouch. He laid them down on the counter, counted them one by one, and then picked them back up and handed them to Lesliana. Lesliana was another daytime crew member but also a full-time student at the local college. She seemed shy and timid but always smiled big. In fact the daytime crew at the P’osies Café, no matter what happened at the cafe or in their personal lives, never hesitated to smile. That was what set them apart. Their smiles were just as warm and inviting as the café.
After Mr. Daniels received his coffee. He sat down at his usual table. He set his coffee down and picked up the newspaper that was placed on the table by Kimberly earlier anticipating his arrival. While the steam rose from his coffee, he opened the newspaper to read or browse. No one knew if he read the newspaper thoroughly but he sat there quietly. Not one word.
The chimes on the door eagerly announces the next set of customers coming in one by one. A rosy cheek woman with a baby in the stroller who too had rosy cheeks. Two teen girls giggling, excited about the day ahead. A tall teen boy with glasses and corn rows whose face was buried in his phone. A petite woman with long hair, dressed in a mustard color blazer, long leather black skirt and leopard heels. She quietly and confidently walked in. And then a buff man wearing an expensive blue suit, white shirt and carrying a briefcase and talking on his phone came into the café.
Mr. Daniels slowly looked up at the man. In fact, everyone turned their attention to him as he came in because he was loud, a little too loud for the morning time where people had only been up for one to a few hours.
Some of the daytime crew felt relieved when he received his coffee and exited the café. But five minutes later he was back. He frantically rushed in even louder than when he came in before. And the chimes retreated back to their resting position just as quickly as they did when he rushed in. His briefcase swinging in his hands. “Where’s my wallet?” he belted out.
“Excuse me sir,” Lesliana softly responded.
“Where is my wallet?” he repeated. “I remember having it here at the counter.”
Kimberly walked over to the cash register and Lesliana. “Sir, we can surely take a look around the store right quick. Are you sure this is the last spot you had your wallet?” asked Kimberly.
“Come on, I know when I last had my wallet.” He retorted impatiently.
The man announced that he will call the cops.
“That will be fine sir but while you do that I will continue to check the floor. Can you retrace your movements?” She asked him.
Kimberly took a deep breath and told Lesliana to help the next customer who had come in after the man. Kimberly stepped from behind the counter and began to walk around the store looking at the floors and tables.
The man turned red and demanded his wallet, his voice high and grating. Kimberly grew worried. She frantically searched for the wallet of the man with the expensive blue suit, her eyes darting under tables.
Just then, Mr. Daniels slowly rose. Every joint seemed to creak a silent protest, but he moved with quiet, deliberate determination toward the belligerent man. Mr. Daniels didn’t speak until he was right beside him, and then, he gently extended an old hand holding a black leather wallet.
The man stopped mid-sentence, his jaw hanging. “Who the hell are you?” he snarled, his eyes narrowing at the old man’s patched coat and worn shoes.
“And how did you get my wallet?”
Mr. Daniels held his gaze—a gaze that held no judgment, only patience.
“You dropped it here on the floor as you left,” Mr. Daniels stated simply. Then, his voice softened, carrying just enough weight to cut through the man’s anger. “Whoever is patient has great understanding, but one who is quick-tempered displays foolishness. I understand that you lost your wallet, sir, but please be patient and kind.”
The man snatched the wallet back. He looked down at the soft-spoken old man, ready to unleash another loud, dismissive retort. But something in Mr. Daniel’s eyes—a depth that seemed out of place in a coffee shop, or perhaps the sheer, unruffled calm—captivated his attention.
The man didn’t soften completely; the impatience was ingrained. Instead of arguing or shouting, the man merely gave a curt, tight nod—a visible effort at restraint.
“Right,” the buff man muttered, shoving the wallet into his inner suit pocket. He looked around the cafe, his face still flushed, then spun around and walked out the door, mumbling something under his breath.
“Thanks, Mr. Daniels,” Kimberly said with a relieved smile, watching the door swing shut.
Welcome, loves, to the P’osies Cafe Series, a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative. Our name, a playful blend of “Poetry” and “Stories,” perfectly captures the essence of what we’re about. In this series, my best friend and fellow writer will join me at our writers’ cafe with our laptops, pens and paper, and a couple of iced mochas or chai lattes. We’ll be sharing our own work—from whispered verse to sprawling tales—and we invite you to listen, reflect, and get lost in the power of storytelling.
Have you ever felt supernaturally protected, as if invisible forces were clearing your way? In this story, unseen spirits whisper, shield, and move the world for those who believe. Trust the path that unfolds.
Today at the P’osies Cafe, we have pt 4 of A New Hope, written by Saneatra Polk. So grab a cup of your favorite cup of coffee or tea and join us!!!!
If you’ve been enjoying A New Hope, be sure to visit her channel for more of her incredible stories! Saneatra is an excellent fiction writer who captures the heart of storytelling through her sci-fi, urban fiction, and more.
Welcome, loves, to the P’osies Cafe Series, a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative. Our name, a playful blend of “Poetry” and “Stories,” perfectly captures the essence of what we’re about. In this series, my best friend and fellow writer will join me at our writers’ cafe with our laptops, pens and paper, and a couple of iced mochas or chai lattes. We’ll be sharing our own work—from whispered verse to sprawling tales—and we invite you to listen, reflect, and get lost in the power of storytelling.
Sometimes the hardest part of the journey is remembering who you are. Even when doubt calls your name, trust the path that keeps pulling you forward.
Please join us today for part 3 of A New Hope within the P’osies Cafe Series!!!!
A New Hope pt 3 (c) 2025
Written by Saneatra Polk
Please click above if the video does not automatically display.
Welcome, loves, to the P’osies Cafe Series, a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative. Our name, a playful blend of “Poetry” and “Stories,” perfectly captures the essence of what we’re about. In this series, my best friend and fellow writer will join me at our writers’ cafe with our laptops, pens and paper, and a couple of iced mochas or chai lattes. We’ll be sharing our own work—from whispered verse to sprawling tales—and we invite you to listen, reflect, and get lost in the power of storytelling.
Today at the cafe, we have part two of A New Hope, written by Saneatra Polk. So, come on in and enjoy. Without further ado:
A New Hope Pt. 2 (c) 2025
Have you ever wanted to give up simply because you couldn’t see the bigger picture? That’s how I felt the further I walked east. There are fewer camps. The world around me turned into nothing but dust and the occasional flicker of sun or moon through the haze.
The voices were still with me, but quieter now—like they were watching to make sure I kept going. I still didn’t know why I was being sent so far, just that I was obeying.
Traveling east felt like climbing a mountain made of ruins. Old skyscrapers had collapsed into jagged hills of metal, glass, and concrete. Even with the abilities I got from the bioweapon attack—speed, heightened senses—the journey wore me down. No water. No posies. I wasn’t sure I’d make it much longer.
Then I saw it—a beam of light shooting from the ground into the sky.
One of them approached me and said someone was waiting to see me. A girl from the orphanage. Like me, she survived the biochemical blast. But instead of speed and voices, she came out of it blind… and able to see the future.
She couldn’t see me with her eyes, but she recognized me immediately in the spirit. She told me I had to keep going, no matter how hard it became. She said a message was waiting inside the box I’d been sent to find, and that I was the one who had to deliver it to the people.
The weight of it hit me: Why me? What made me worthy of carrying something meant for the world?
The Sky People gave me water and posies. Before I left, they told me that if I continued in the same direction, I would reach the Green People—and they would strengthen me for what comes next.
When I walked away from their camp, I carried something I didn’t have when I arrived: a sense of purpose. For the first time, I started to believe… maybe I really was chosen.
Have you ever felt like giving up—only to find unexpected strength or help right when you needed it most?
Happy Fall Season!!!!! Did you grab your favorite coffee, iced coffee, or chai tea this morning? Well, if you did, make sure you also check out writers, Saneatra Polk and Tannika Nikeya. They’re serving up poems and stories, creativity, encouragement, and inspiration.
📖☕️ So come On In! Dive into the Posies Cafe Series on YouTube as well as our other platforms for captivating short stories & poems. And stay tuned for this Friday’s new post. You don’t want to miss it!
Facebook and Instagram Saneatra polk TikTok Saneatrap
Welcome, loves, to the P’osies Cafe Series, a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative. Our name, a playful blend of “Poetry” and “Stories,” perfectly captures the essence of what we’re about. In this series, my best friend and fellow writer will join me at our writers’ cafe with our laptops, pens and paper, and a couple of iced mochas or chai lattes. We’ll be sharing our own work—from whispered verse to sprawling tales—and we invite you to listen, reflect, and get lost in the power of storytelling.
Today, we have an awesome story by my bestie, Saneatra Polk. So come on in and have a sip of suspense and your favorite coffee!!!!
A New Hope Pt 1 (c) 2025
Have you ever felt pulled in a direction you couldn’t explain—like a whisper from God, or the weight of something greater than yourself? That’s how the voices came to Zayah. For weeks, they urged her to go east, toward a gold box hidden in the wasteland. She tried to drown them out with the bass of her battered CD player, but the voices grew stronger—until the music itself refused to play.
Zayah crawled from her tent. The air was heavy with dust, glowing orange under a pale white sun that looked more like fire than light. All around her, people emerged from tents, their eyes set on the rubble field where they would spend the day digging for scraps. Scraps meant survival—a doughy posie to chew, maybe a sip of water, maybe tea if luck was kind.
Zayah slung her knapsack over her shoulder, but instead of joining the slow line of scavengers, she turned the other way. Her heartbeat was fast. If anyone noticed, they’d ask questions, maybe follow her. They couldn’t know she had the power to sense treasures in the rubble, or that the voices had chosen her. They couldn’t know she was leaving it all behind.
East meant desert. East meant danger. East might mean nothing at all.
But Zayah took one last bite of her posie, tasting sugar and dust on her tongue. She pulled a strip of cloth across her mouth and nose for protection against the dust and stepped forward into the unknown.
Tannika Nikeya 