TheCoffeeShop

The Coffee Shop

I sat across the coffee shop from an old man
Very old I'd say
And beside him sat a young man
Not yet five years of age
And the very old man
Had very old hands
Coarse and rough and callused
But in one hand
He held that young mans' hand
Like a priceless jewel
In a weathered chalice
And somehow you knew
That no act of nature
That no act of man
Could ever willfully extract
That young mans' hand
From the hand of that very old man
That young boy
The son of his son
Was more to him than life
He was the part of his soul
That would continue to soar
When his own reached the end of its flight
And the eyes of that elderly gentleman
Were as bright as the eyes of the child
They danced with rich luminescence
Each time that little boy smiled
I listened for their conversation
But I couldn't understand a word
But I understood what it was I heard
They laughed and laughed
Told stories only they would know
Their voices a marvelous harmony
One voice high, one voice low
One voice young, one voice old
And in a moment of sudden clarity
That caught me by surprise
I watched as that very old man
Grew young before my eyes
And when at last I left the coffee shop
I did not see what the others did
I did not see a very old man
And a very young boy
All I saw
Was just those two kids

© 2002, Richard Elloyan
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.