Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Seventeen Years Later

Hours passed
Into teacups.
The flecked foam
From our chai
Lapped and ebbed
In oversized cups.
I have not seen my friend
For many years,
A realization
Felt more than thought
At a corner table,
In a press
Of coats and bags.
Intervening years
Stacked like books,
And the glancing thoughts
Of those past times
I had scribbled down
On sheets now crumpled
To slide between
Thick leather tomes.
I retrieved notes
That were not forgotten,
Our chuckles ringing
Over drained cups
Of the too sweet chai.


g. Rudner said...

Tea Musings-always the hilite of my Tuesdays.

Cha sen said...

Glad you're reading :-)