Coffeehouse Art and Poetry

Coffee House

a cappuccino and a little boy

with a little broom

sweeping the floor

as Sunday mourningers

and lonely philosophers

sip coffee spiked with Italian music.

Everybody talking to the little boy

as father silently follows, guarding

his Oshkosh B’kosh son

who stands in front of big glass door

greeting strangers

coming and going

everybody smiles as if long lost friends.

Only two-years-old and he sweeps

even the stern old man

in one corner moving his lips

cracking a smile on his war-torn face.

In another corner the poet

writes his poem

wondering about wise words

for the next poem like a fisherman

in a calm breeze at peace

no fish in the pail

throwing back the little ones

but having a good day!