Chess Board Cafe

On his chest he draws
The years passed
In form, uniform, hours counted
He enters the chess board cafe
His regular table and buddies
Are waiting for his arrival
In the air there is laughter
And the smell of a thousand cup
Of coffee served
He enters the chess board cafe
Alone shaking in grey
His table has one chair
In the air there is silent song playing
In his head memories longing
It is his move
The laid chess board has only one piece left
It is his move
It has been his move
For a long time
But he never moved.

The cafe is closed
The chess board is lost
On his chest he draws.

April 3, 2019

Advertisements

About alaindesade

Novelist, songwriter and philosopher. Has special interest in human relations, evolution of mind, inter-cultural complications, and the concept of God.
This entry was posted in c’est la vie and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Chess Board Cafe

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s