All Night Cafe
Approaching the solitary window,
Cold bites deep to my veins,
The belongings to the window's innards,
Crack out wards, light up my way.
The glowing warmth and smell of it's doorway,
Invites you, to the 'All Night Café'.
Breath lightly on the window,
Cold wind catches it hard,
One moment caught from moving,
All sense of feeling barred.
Huddled in the corner, mug of tea to hand,
Covered in rags is the resemblance of man.
He has no knowledge of his surroundings,
Which have treated him so severe,
He keeps on hiding from us nightly,
With yet one more pint of beer.
See sweat filled walls look down on solitary man,
Sits crumpled and worn, preserves what dignity he can.
Wind leathered face, stiffens disgrace.
Unshaven, unclean. Visible and smelling are the places he's seen.
Look into his eyes, they are swollen brown,
The darkness of which match only his frown.
His cheekbones in contrast, stand out proud,
Skin, clinging thinly, as his corpses constant shroud.
Decide to move in closer, having been unnoticed inside,
The staff sit living in the kitchen, where from such reality they hide.
Still, he sits coldly, as I, invading his space,
My form forever lowering, stops, opposite expressionless face.
For a moment my attention is taken, by a voice high ticking on the wall,
It's face forever changing, one day it too must fall.
Outside howling, the wind is crying to get in,
Starts kicking at the doorway, raising the noise to a din.
There is laughter in the back now, as the clock it strikes one,
Everyone seems to be saying, "life must go on".
Turn back to the table, my friend has a tear in his eye,
All the lonely people in the world, yet nobody answers why.
Reach out to touch him, then all I wipe is on glass,
Copyright © Chris Matthews | Year Posted 2013
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