The Italian Café

An Italian café there was, at the end of a cobblestone road.

You sauntered gracefully in before me, I lagged not too far behind.

The place was typical of what you'd expect,

Cramped with espresso machines, pastries and small bistro tables.

Cozy and inviting, with the aroma of a fresh brew,

Who could resist a biscotto or two?

Everything about it made me think of my culture,

The old men playing scopa, while the young ones watched soccer.

At the counter I asked for a cappuccino of course,

As you looked at me quietly and said you'd have tea.

Tea wasn't an option in this type of joint, all they had were

Beans: light, medium or dark roast.

I somehow convinced you to try out a latte.

With more milk than coffee, you accepted my offer.

We sat in the corner at a table for two.

Behind you were shelves with pictures and banners.

They were memories of when our heritage was made proud.

A portrait of Italy's team holding the World Cup high,

I remember that day, full of our cheers and our cries.

So fond of that moment, that I let out a sigh.

Just then my focus panned out towards your bright eyed face,

And I smiled because that same joy you replaced.

Your essence was glowing, you were timid and shy,

As your hand reached out to mine, I sensed the sparks fly.

I captured the moment not only with my camera, but

It was also captured within the depths of my mind.

Once it got to be late, it was time to go,

While leaving, I pondered the future of how together we'd grow.

The seasons since changed and we haven't been back,

On that cobblestone road that led to that small coffee bar.

For a good while, since that day, together we grew,

And much time has passed now I no longer see you.

On a particular night, I walked up to the road towards that place.

I was tired, work was long, and I needed a good cup of Joe,

So walked back inside this time on my own.

I ordered my cappuccino as I always did.

Then I scouted around for a spot where I could sit.

One spot was left and I recoiled when I noticed where it was.

It was the spot in that corner we sat years ago.

That very same spot where you stood out to me,

Where your presence and laughter filled me with glee.

Now I sat in that corner, all the banners and pictures still there,

Except for your lovely self that I thought must be somewhere.

It was in this moment that I realized well enough,

That the key to life is not about doing things that are over the top

But rather the simple things with those who we love quite a lot.

The Italian saying goes, la vita e bella; and for sure this is true.

Though, life is only beautiful when you share it with others.

With people you can count on who love you for you.

I hope that whenever you're sitting around,

you're still drinking lattes instead of earl grey tea,

Occasionally remembering that corner table and me.

As for me, you might think, that by now I'm leagues away,

But I'm still right here in my little Italian Café.