Caffé Borgia Saturdays

She met him again after so many years,

not enough stories, an abundance of tears.

Each telltale smile of what used to be,

emblazoned on hearts, released and now free.

This sidewalk café, espresso, sweet rolls,

were years their main fare amid Saturday’s souls.

The East Village lies, the deception, the shame

absconded each noon when their Saturdays came.

Each sip of the coffee, each bite of the roll

made the life of the other in sharing now whole.

But now lives are separate.  They reunite here

on Saturday again, each mem’ry held dear.

When once love was shared,  now rainstorms wash time,

to  remember their Saturdays – stolen moments sublime.



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