Le Café at Rue de la Gaulle »
On the right corner of “Rue de La Gaulle,”
She stands like an undisputed phenomenon.
Ethereal with a subtle je-ne-sais-quoi,
Smelling like childhood, chocolate, and coffee.
She has an éclat of being labyrinthine.
A sovereign beauty worth every atom of admiration.
From any visible angle, she carries a celestial hue.
With the caveat of not being everyone’s cup of café.
Her stories half hidden; her lovers obsessed.
She is a trophy for celebrities, a pilgrim for the artists,
A compassionate friend for the jilted romantics,
And a haven for the grey gaffers.
She has been living unknown for a while,
Scanning through the streets to find her oldsters.
Often, she speaks of them to her antediluvian walls.
Of their joys, their triumphs, their sorrows, their bigotry.
Their poetry, their plea, their resentment, and their silence.
We met on a Wednesday evening.
She was frail yet bright as an ambrosial fire,
I stood amazed, had my coffee, took some notes,
And penned this poem for her, my dearest “ Le Café ”
Preeti Venkateshan
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