The Greenville Inn Poem by Louise Marie DelSanto

The Greenville Inn
is at a corner
where the history
of a stone fireplace
still burns in Winter

We did not wait
to be seated
a table empty
by a flowered window

Three gold ceramic
pots were lined up
and a sign asking for
antiques above us

The room was dim
but I studied the
way the outside light
streamed in on you

the way your foot
rubbed up against
mine
hands struggling
to stay still...

then the waitress
handed us our menus.