The Man at the Table

He’s got a daughter the age of my sister
Living in Hoover—he’ll visit her soon.
He’s got a son who’s just a year younger
Than me, and it might be he’s doing just fine.

He loves to cook, though he thought he would hate it;
He gave it a try and now swears that he’s hooked.
He says his specialty might be spaghetti,
But also he makes quite a mean sloppy joe.

He talks about plans and gets more excited
While painting a future of culinary school.
He smiles as he thinks, and he gets really quiet
And I know he believes it, he sees it, it’s true.

The pain of the present, his homeless state, shatter
And for a brief moment I see it all too:
Dressed in his long-sleeved white coat with the buttons
He prepares his world-famous champignon parmentier.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. heavenhappens
    Jun 09, 2013 @ 16:59:45

    Very moving ad meaningful!


    • wordcoaster
      Jun 09, 2013 @ 18:36:59

      Thank you so much! I knew I had to write a poem about my experience at Brother Bryan, a local homeless shelter that the nonprofit I work for partners with. But I had no internet, so I had to rush to the library. The poem was practically banging on the walls of my brain, but I knew if I didn’t get it down on paper soon, it would evaporate. Logged on at 6:00 and fought the clock to finish before the library computers shut down at 6:45. I hit publish with not even a minute to spare 🙂


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