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Each Day Still Lingers.

Each day she’s there in the cafe
Sitting in the same seat with the
Same shopping bag and the same
Coat as she drinks tea and eats a
Large blueberry muffin which she
Eats without delicacy but a great
Deal of pleasure and as you sit you
Study her taking in each aspect of
Her right down to the way her black
Shoes have worn down at the heal
And the lone gold ring on her plump
Finger and you think maybe she was
Married and he got away or died or
Ran off with some younger or slimmer
Other and as you muse she raises her
Mug of tea and like a child she seems
To look at the inside of the mug as she
Lifts it up and maybe you think her grim
Mother told her off once for doing just
That and smacked her hand but now that
Her mother has gone off and died or is
Shut up in some home for the aged she
Can sip and do as she likes without fear
Of censure or smacks on the hand and as
She lowers the mug she sees you across
The way and looks away and wipes the
Rim of the mug with her fingers as if the
Memory of her mother’s chiding still lingers.

poem by Terry Collett
Added by Poetry Lover
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