Outside The Pen And Parchment Poem by David Harris

Sitting at a table
outside the Pen and Parchment
waiting for some poets to come along
to add rhyme to summer’s song.
A nice cold drink in front of me
to refresh the parts
other drinks seem to miss.
The sun was high in the sky,
everyone around was sweating,
all of them except me.
I was wearing a black suit and shirt and tie,
my trademark you could call it.
Every time they looked at me
they seem to melt a little more,
but I was cooler than my drink
that sat in front of me.

27 July 2008