The Conversation Poem by Diana van den Berg
The Conversation
It was a simple roadhouse
on a quiet, winding country road.
The bare tabletop
was a harsh blue panelyte
and their chairs were mismatched;
his was a little rickety,
but none of that mattered;
patrons came and went
and their coffee grew cold
and the earth forgot
to turn on its axis
because they were immersed
in a conversation
that mattered
and didn’t.
(23 April 2011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 3:23:20 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
