Coffee Shop after Club 16 Fitness**

listening people assaying the content
of the messages, against the background of noises
                                like layers,voices upon voices,

but there is one voice, holding court with herself,
staring through the floor at my feet, finding oneself,
                                                        ­                            I would hope,
among the chorus in the coffee shop,
among the chorus in her conversation,
under her white and blue striped scarf,
her wrinkles cause twinkles at the corners of her very sad eyes,
if she had stopped talking even for a second, I would have been surprised.
The erosion of her has begun her cheeks have permanent fissures where
the tears and rivulets have run for ages.

Her small frame and skirt fill the chair,
as it seems there are others there,
she is so lonely and alone, her skin
tone fits the surroundings well,
how long she will talk, time will tell.

I wasn't rude and did not eavesdrop or interrupt,
                    I am sure that would have meant an abrupt
halt to her flow, of prayer for ones like me, a by product,
of my own invention, as she resembled Mother Theresa,
with her conviction of non-stop prayer, from her chair.




©DWE122013