Over His Morning Coffee

Over his morning coffee, he sat
dreaming of yesterday’s spring
and the hill country of his youth,
remembering summers of peace
and autumn days when he thought
life a forever thing. The world lay before
him then, a ripe field awaiting harvest.
Now beside this sad cup, a winter hand,
so withered and so gray, an old man’s
hand he barely recognized as his own.
Then his gaze found her playful smile.
In the hazel warmth of her eyes he
felt like spring again, the rich loam of
her love yielding a gentle harvest of joy

© 2015, poem, Jamie Dedes, all rights reserved; 2012, photograph, Wendy Rose Alger

9 thoughts on “Over His Morning Coffee

  1. Loved it on many levels,,, It isn’t just for the young, but for those who love with their hearts not their eyes. we are so caught up in a youthful culture we forgot there is beauty everywhere and in every thing we see.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. It can be turned around, right? And become an aging ‘she’ over her morning cup of coffee, suddenly meeting the smile and eyes of a an aging, but playful ‘he’?…
    Anyway, this poem touched me and moved me with its sweetness, all from within.
    Thank you, Jamie…

    Liked by 1 person

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