By Abigail Warren


If ever we find ourselves

sitting in a restaurant,


or teahouse, or even

a bench in the park,


old and ready for sleep

but still able to get on,


perhaps a holiday with

light baggage,


please, please,

let us hope we still


have something to say

to one another, like


didn’t you love that

chatty taxi driver?


or, isn’t the tea and toast



Let us not

be like the couple


across the room from me now

their tea and sandwiches done


both staring, one out the window

the other at the wall


nothing more to say

after all the years,


no more discourse, no niceties

no touch of the hand,


have you had enough, dear?

let us not go silent


let us not not speak.

2 Responses to “BUTTER ROCK CAFÉ”

  1. Ian says:

    Abigail ~

    I love this poem. That is such a compelling image, and one that is seen too often. Thanks for this piece.


  2. ira rubenzahl says:

    What a beautiful picture this poet paints. The narrative carries the reader along, making one curious until the final punch line. Bravo Ms. Warren.