Yesterday, as you poured the coffee
in your polka-dotted apron, smiling,
I again told myself about
things best left unsaid.
Today, when you're no longer here,
I wonder if you ever guessed
by the way I used to leave a coin,
hidden, under layers of napkin.
Tomorrow, when I visit your new place,
(I don't know yet) I won't have anything to say.
Yet I want you to know that
the coffee was always good.
~ Ankur.
[Edit: This poem was published on Feb 5, 2011 by Haggard and Halloo - http://www.haggardandhalloo.com/2011/02/05/coffeeshop-conversations/]
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