At the Café – by John D Robinson

 

Sat just a few tables away
sipping at a tepid
americano black
I watch an elderly couple,
80 or more years old
and they sat opposite
each other at an outside
table at a high-street
cafe;
I watched as they ate
their lunch
and as each of them
lifted the fork towards
the mouth, their
hands trembled and
shook terribly and a
great deal of the food
fell from the fork;
at the old couple’s feet
sat 3 labradors,
2 cream and 1 black
and they were old too
and they sat opened
mouthed
waiting and catching
the pieces of
falling food from
the forks;
the dogs were in
good shape for
their age
but their owners
looked thin and
undernourished
and in need of a
good meal
and the old couple
were giving their
best shot
and I could see in
their eyes
that
each piece of food
that made it into
their mouths
tasted good,
tasted very good
as the dogs looked up
mouths open,
anticipating.

 

 

John D Robinson was born in ’63 in the UK; his work has appeared widely in the small press and online literary journals; ‘When You Hear The Bell, There’s Nowhere To Hide‘ (2016 Holy&intoxicated Publications) carries an introduction by John Grochalski; he is a contributing poet to the 48th Street Press 2016 Broadside Series.