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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required COFFEE IN A CAFÉ CALLED CONTENTEDNESS He’s content……. Yet uniquely unrepentant He’s content with his surroundings Content to do that which he must……. With trust Content, occasionally, to do something he actually enjoys With poise I suppose ninety-six years tempers one’s desire and demand for delight…….. Ninety-six years is midnight………. Come what might He’s content to café a coffee Or bear the man he sips and sits aside Another soul he takes, contentedly, in stride Ninety-six with dementia denied Ninety-six with death defied While his contentedness is dignified and defined Ninety-six is ample time to become so well- refined Long ago having cast off the mighty nine to five Content solely to still be alive While others may see half-past midnight as looming but a fortnight away Come what may I hear him say “Please, may I have another cup of coffee” A gent content with his beverage begotten Fearing not, nor too often…… His coffin Ninety-six and my heart is warmed by an oven of admiration for a man so amiably content With contentedness, by comfort, so long ago lent A gent A gentle gent who throws a breeze of ease into life’s midnight mix Oh so very gentle at ninety-six No more hide and go seek, no more marbles and no more pick-up sticks So content……….. done taking his licks ……………at ninety-six © copy write PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
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