Tuesday Poem: Café
Café
The woman
sips coffee
– makes it last
avoids eye contact
– writes an occasional note
in a dog-eared book
takes in
every detail
– wrought iron palings
the spring sky
.
© helen lowe
Published in foam:e 1 March 2008
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About the Poem: On March 18, in a further comment on my post Silent Witness, I wrote " … I went past Under the Red Verandah cafe today, where SpecFicNZ were having the long lunches and it was just another pile of rubble. I feel really sad because I loved that place …"
Under the Red Verandah (UtRV) was one of those places that seemed made for writers to hang out in, with a friendly, casual atmosphere and great coffee and kai (food.) Not surprisingly, I often caught up with fellow writers and other friends there or just dropped in for a coffee. Equally unsurprisingly, a few poems and other scribblings first sprang into life over those UtRV cups of coffee. This poem, Café, was first drafted at, and is about, Under the Red Verandah so I felt it was fitting to post it as my Tuesday Poem today.
Due to the exigencies of WordPress, I can't get the original formatting to reproduce here on the blog, so have gone for a work-around. To see the original, you can still read it online here at foam:e.
Note: The good news is that Mandy and the team are working to resurrect the UtRV business based out of the old forge at the back of the property. I really hope they can make it happen.
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