My spoon circles the coffee
Breaking cinnamon art
Allowing foam to sit on my tongue
savouring creamy sweet

The melodious French voice
wafts over raisin toast and latte
Speaking fluently, her hands twist
and turn gracefully as she speaks

In days past I knew him
robust, a giant of a man
His height a commanding presence
I called him teddy bear, back then
always cuddly, always smiling
Family friend with softly spoken words

The laminate table shares the bowl
of hot chips, breakfast or is it lunch
no time frame for pensioners
Combinations of the young walk past
Stripes and spots
leopard print with lemon
The beast would cringe

The elderly man comes closer in view
His walker supporting his limping body
frail and thin, head of grey, brown corduroys
Sunken cheeks, no smile
Recognition in the moment, a familiar face
teddy bear feebly steps
Madame pulls out her compact straightens her fringe
Chips are air blown cool between them and
he walks slowly past

Copyright JMTacken 16.7.14

No Hero

Pitch black night
except one shaft 
that hit the stones
that I tread upon
from the otherwise
moonless and starless sky
 a window above
shadowy figures behind curtains
back and forth
and a curdling scream 
like milk gone sour
nightmares are made 
heinous crime in silence black
no one stirs
gets involved
certainly not I
I stand and watch and wait
what iniquitous deed took place
what tragedy
for screams to echo
what unlawful felony
scream in the dead of this night
to not awaken the hero in me
silence falls the curtains
the figure now alien from
the prey
no hero am I
walk silently by


ramblingsfromamum 28.12.2012