The Room at the House of Pies


This morning as I sat across from my spouse breakfasting
In the front room at the House of Pies where oft we eat,
Two tables behind my love caught my eyes and ears.
So I sat there and shamelessly - eavesdropped.

At one booth, sat two diners seated on just one side,
A caring mother and her grown daughter.
First one would caress then the other
Would lovingly touch back.

Daughter chortled on happily about her girl-roomies,
And a boy-roomie who had irritated all of them.
He had summarily been advised of his terrible
Transgressions against the whole gender, and moved out.

Then mother spoke of her next visit to daughter.
And when they left, mother was embraced as they walked.
Cherished, was what came to my mind.
Their feelings were mutually alive and well.

At the other table a young mother and her toddler
Sat across the booth from the young mother's - parents possibly.
These parents, both stiff, seeming to express disdain,
Held themselves awkwardly taut and distant. No love shown here.

The parents possibly grandparents seemed to say,
"We are fragile, uncomfortable, and scared of life."
Their hearts seemed to lack warmth, their tongues chimed a sad mimicry.
They really could not love a young mother and child.