As I watch the world pass by
While I sit here at this pavement cafe,
It is hard to believe
The universe does not rotate about me.
For I could imagine
That this could be anywhere,
Montmartre at the dawning of the Belle Époque
Or a Martian thoroughfare in twenty-nine fifty-three.
For as I sit here a cup of coffee
Cradled gently in my hands
Snatches of human drama
Are carried to me on the breeze.
While I contemplate what comes next
I realise I’m like the wise man
That sits under the tree,
While I cannot see it all from here
I understand what I need from the universe will come to me.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.