NINETEEN SIXTY TWO
Through that small window of time I see
the Rendezvous Cafe a napkin and me.
Perfect Italian cup to my right
the smell of coffee pure delight.
Quintessential Mayfair heat
in the early sixties' historical street.
On the napkin doodles and words
as if a moment could care -
but the rounded coffee spurred me on
establishing me there.
Still I write and that was the past,
this moment equally strong,
and I move from the window
the lingering there
to a view as broad as it's long.