Holding Court

She sits inside the coffee shop, Each morning, when I pass, Right up in front, the seat the same; I see her through the glass. Her hair is short and silver white And sometimes she’s alone, Her laptop on the table Or she’s talking on the phone. At other times, companions Share her table and they chat In animated fashion, I suppose of this or that. I’ve got to give her credit For she’s there most every day, Her special place awaiting her From where she’ll hold her sway. I wonder what would happen If somebody claimed her seat. I have a strong suspicion The usurper would retreat.