cafe

café

this stone café knows our routine:
mushroom omelette for me
two cups of coffee, for you
‘chutney on the side and a glass of
water, please’
as we watch the sea.
we’ve been here before

it is here we talk of everything
but us
chew each mouthful
and with it swallow words of the questions
I dare not ask
afraid of turning this light breakfast between us
into something else
I cannot name,
cannot hold in my palm.
just like I cannot hold you

and again,
I ignore the
words that beat against my chest
like the waves beat against this village’s harbour wall
the one we will again walk along,
allowing my footsteps
to tap the rhythm of wishing
I dare not bring into daylight

and as we stand on that wall’s edge
watching fishermen and boys
wait for a bite
we have the same conversation of
talking much saying nothing
biding our time till you drive away

: a goodbye of silences
of tears cried silently behind closed doors

©Toni Stuart – December 2008/July 2009