Musings by The Poet Loriet
Panache~A Poet's Answer
*Note~This poem is in answer to one written to me about a special place, Panache, a coffee shop where I shared memories with a very special person.
Overstuffed taupe couch
three pillows, five feet long...
but does it matter?
I sat there alone that day
as I do now.
It was far too big and cozy
not to share,
but we didn't know...
You sat catty-corner
on the yellow piano bench,
but our conversation, laughter
bridged the gap.
I sip chocolate
creme brulee coffee.
It warms my throat,
soothes my nerves.
I know the jazzy
folk singer
that fills the room
with his smooth baritone,
local performer Barry Cloyd
singing, "Highway To Your Heart."
I met him
at a poetry reading.
I smile at the familiarity.
Everyone this morning
is here alone--
elderly lady reading the paper,
middle-aged man with his briefcase,
crippled black man looking around
with a shy smile,
janitor pushing a broom.
Artsy prints line the walls,
paintings by local artists...
I ponder fish in
the oversized tank.
They mesmerize me
with their undulating rhythyms
as I sit under the shade
of a silk ficus tree.
Yes, I'm alone...
but not lonely.
I have my memories
of that day.
We shared our poetry
and, more importantly,
our friendship.
We shared our stories.
I loved making you laugh~
deep belly laughs~
as you wiped tears
away from your eyes.
I watched you
close your eyes
in culinary appreciation
of the sinful cheesecake,
your foot tapping
to the jazzy music.
I remember how touched
I was when you got emotional
about one of my sad poems.
Your caring heart
surprised me.
I think of the book
we were working on
together...
I refuse to be sad.
I will always
think of you
when I'm here,
moments we shared.
Surrounded
by deep rich wood,
I relax,
sink into the couch,
feeling as if I'm enclosed
in the embrace
of a friend.
Lori Beal
Overstuffed taupe couch
three pillows, five feet long...
but does it matter?
I sat there alone that day
as I do now.
It was far too big and cozy
not to share,
but we didn't know...
You sat catty-corner
on the yellow piano bench,
but our conversation, laughter
bridged the gap.
I sip chocolate
creme brulee coffee.
It warms my throat,
soothes my nerves.
I know the jazzy
folk singer
that fills the room
with his smooth baritone,
local performer Barry Cloyd
singing, "Highway To Your Heart."
I met him
at a poetry reading.
I smile at the familiarity.
Everyone this morning
is here alone--
elderly lady reading the paper,
middle-aged man with his briefcase,
crippled black man looking around
with a shy smile,
janitor pushing a broom.
Artsy prints line the walls,
paintings by local artists...
I ponder fish in
the oversized tank.
They mesmerize me
with their undulating rhythyms
as I sit under the shade
of a silk ficus tree.
Yes, I'm alone...
but not lonely.
I have my memories
of that day.
We shared our poetry
and, more importantly,
our friendship.
We shared our stories.
I loved making you laugh~
deep belly laughs~
as you wiped tears
away from your eyes.
I watched you
close your eyes
in culinary appreciation
of the sinful cheesecake,
your foot tapping
to the jazzy music.
I remember how touched
I was when you got emotional
about one of my sad poems.
Your caring heart
surprised me.
I think of the book
we were working on
together...
I refuse to be sad.
I will always
think of you
when I'm here,
moments we shared.
Surrounded
by deep rich wood,
I relax,
sink into the couch,
feeling as if I'm enclosed
in the embrace
of a friend.
Lori Beal
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Panache~A Poet`s Answer
Panache~A Poet`s Answer
