Cafe of Sorrow
Sitting, smiling, still
in the Cafe of Sorrows
Mom, Dad and Child
fine clothes, cradling on
close knee, protective
many in lively, livid
discussion, laughing, embracing
the moments that life
brings.
Out of chai, WTH?
Never mind my fair Italian
stud of a waiter
I'll have green tea
and an oatmeal cookie
the steam rises from
the lime-green moat
embraced by brown cup
and saucer protective
old poet with notebook
and glass of wine, the
only two things he needs
shrill music rises above
our heads wrestling with the
various chattering and
the slamming of the
espresso machine. The
noise is its own orchestra
in this protective cave of
sorrow.
The red stockings various
names sewed in
hang from the ceiling a
holiday reminder to those
who already didn't know
the time of season
The music, now Italian
opera rises and so do
our souls with it. The
half eaten cookie is eaten
tea is drunk, all wrestling
in my organs, protective
in that tunnel of sorrow
get up and go, embrace the
day, leaving the protective
Cafe of Sorrow behind.
Copyright © Colin Amato | Year Posted 2010
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