The waitresses
upbeat chatter
doesn’t match
her sad face

Tea is steeping
milk and sugar
patiently waiting

And I am lost
among the
knives and forks
plates of half-eaten meals

Thoughts adrift
in shafts of sunlight
spilled across the counter

Pay the check
leave a tip
and walk out
the same door
I walked in

Keep things simple
until my mind
returns

Bringing with it
what was lost
and found

(D. James)