Life is a sidewalk café (a poem, of sorts, on growing up)

Seated, outside on a folding chair
Overhead, the umbrella shields blinding sun
Waiter inquires of my desires, serves my needs in haste
Legs crossed, I sip on coffee, and watch the world walk by
Wind picks up and once-sturdy umbrella shifts, catching the gust and toppling over
Hot coffee spills across once-clean, white table cloth
I try in vain to catch the waiter’s attention, but he’s busy … with other patrons … on break … off duty?
So I gather myself, pay the bill and drop a tip on the table in thanks
It was time to be getting on with the day, anyway.

(inspired by a Life Metaphor poetry assignment for my students… and my life)

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