Tables quietly huddled
along the inside wall
the shutters were half down
and boys on a crawl ,
thin legs sticking out
in sets of four
with chairs upside down
clear off the floor ,
a small boy half clad
clambering under ,
his back taking the curves
implausible , I wonder !
of the legs carved beautiful
brown and shiny
heavy on top
but pointed and tiny ,
European bentwood
hitting the chequered floor
reflection in the mirrored wall
of the old Zoroastrian at the door ,
watching the scrawny little boy
mopping with his might
stretching his arms long
winding around tight ,
the tables with marble top
and the small butter blob
which the small boy and his dad
had dropped down plop ,
aroma of crusty bruns
brown and buttered
thick milky tea and white cups
through the day clattered ,
feet shuffling by
from sunrise to sundown
the Parsi old man watched
under his round cap crown ,
with the last set of tea cups
plopping in to the sink
and the young boy scampering
almost at the brink. …..
© Dr Swati A Gadgil , All Rights Reserved .
A thoroughly engaging transposition of poetic observation into a theatrical mise-en-scene with its keenly documented minutiae.
Dear Louis , your words mean such a lot to me ! Thank you!
A graphic evocative poem.
Thank you for your appreciation !
Thank you for your response and appreciation
I loved this poem . It transported me to a real Irani Cafe typical of Mumbai and Pune with the thick crusty buttered bread and fragrant hot tea . To see it from the viewpoint of the young lad swabbing the floors makes in poignant and intriguing at the same time
I am glad you enjoyed the poem . Thank you
I watched that cafe through word pictures in high graphics and sensitive at the very time. It’s one of the main deals of a poet what he should reflect.
Thank you for understanding the sentiment
Can picture this. Truly beautiful.
Thank you for your response
An excellent,evocative,and picturesque poem.
Thank you Vijay sir for reading and responding