Not Forgotten You

I was in my local Starbucks the other morning and I noticed that they had rearranged the furniture. Before the rearrangement, there was this one table—I may have mentioned it here before—tucked away behind some displays, that I would almost always see this same lady sitting at every morning, reading her Bible. Sometimes, if I got there before she did, I would sit there instead, just to throw her off her routine. But on my recent visit, I noticed that the table was not there anymore, and my first thought was “I wonder where that lady will sit now?”

So, I wrote a poem about that missing table, and instead of the lady with her Bible, sat a couple there. Then I chased off the girl and broke the guy’s heart. Moohoohahaha.

An Empty Space

They’ve rearranged the
tables in that coffee shop
where we sat that first
morning here, together in
our new world, hopeful, nervous.

They’ve rearranged the
tables so that, where once we sat
and I touched your hand
and told you it was all good,
there is now an empty space.

An empty space, between
a display of gold coast beans
and a stack of mugs,
like the space in my life where
you sat once, legs crossed, smiling.