The Cute Old Couple in Their Booth
The Cute Old Couple In Their Booth
Like clockwork, every Sunday
They arrive at the doors
Of their favorite eatery,
As countless times before
The familiar waitress smiles,
Bids them in;
Their morning ritual about to begin.
No need for menus:
The order well known
Staff has set the places
A progresion set in stone
The world moves on in its way without
As they settle down within
Their booth, their morning ritual to begin.
They seem to study their cellphones,
Sharing news of the coming day
But beneath the simple exchange
A deeper one holds sway;
A converse of thought
Built upon feelings, year upon year
He remembers her songs,
She remembers his jokes
Painting their lives with sure, beautiful strokes
They remember the wrongs
As well as the rights
They shared upon thousands of thousands of nights
They shared with each other the subtle truths
Gained through the experience of misspent youth
Now turned to wisdom,
As they sit pensive in their booth.
All this in silence,
All unspoken truth,
As they simply chatter within their booth.
True to themselves, what else could matter?
As she is his woman,
As he is her man -
The fundamental tale, since the world began -
All things accepted, no sorrow nor ruth
They remain, as ever, the cute old couple in their booth.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
