Yesterday's Café Poem by Chris Zachariou

In the dwindling light of autumn
Primrose Hill remembers springtime.

Dressed in blue remembered verses
betrayed memories shelter in the park;
little swallows with crippled wings
gather in the trees to dream of May

and in between the quiet whispers
of half-forgotten rhymes, I hear echoes
from a life she left once beside the door.

We sit in yesterday's derelict café
sipping cold tea for hours.
She speaks of mellow sunsets, her
new life, and her cottage by the sea.
I stay silent— words do not come easy
to abandoned lovers.

It's nearly eight o'clock; wilted flowers
shiver in a vase, the tablecloth is frayed
and torn and the streets are getting darker.
Spring now seems so long ago.