The Come-Back Café

I wear my heart like a waitress,
My black apron inscribed with my name
I pour myself out like hot coffee,
Then hide in a chipped cup of pain.

The glare of a neon sign blinking-
Shows a blue cup with coffee inside,
It reminds me of dreams that are sinking
And flash off and on like my pride.

There's a seat in the booth of my memory,
With a tattered and torn place or two,
I come back just to sit and remember,
To drink in the moments of you…

I come back just to drink in the flavor
A café of the mind, in a way…
For it's here my heart starts to savor,
The fine blends  of the Come-Back Café…

Sharon Frye