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Personal Note:

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Poem

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.

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