He and she <br />hand in hand <br />find a table in the window. <br />The sun slants in, <br />reflected from the cobbles, <br />from chrome hub caps <br />and baby buggy handles <br />on to the sleek lines of the expresso machine, <br />back to her eyes <br />shining <br />(with remembered desire?) <br />He places the carrier bags <br />on the soft worn leather <br />of the comfy seat in the window. <br />She looks to him as he <br />goes up to get her cappucino <br />(“Ciocolata on top, sir? ”) <br />They sit, smiling, <br />remembering, <br />and I <br /> <br />watch <br /> <br />and try <br /> <br />to read <br /> <br />my <br /> <br />book.<br /><br />Janice Windle<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/coffee-in-nero-s/
