The Teashop
He moves to my side
near at hand but not touching
Others strolled with us but
my focus narrows on the
man at my side
The teashop our destination
draws us onward Its interior
beckoning us downward
through a shadowed
passageway
Lingering encourages us
a poet's heart greets us with a
smile . . . a wonder of conversation awaits
Little did I know his self-produced
books would inspire my own
efts decades later
Long after now I have forgotten his name but I still remember his
tiny teashop and his miniature booklets of poetry written as the
musing of a retired engineer
And soon after that the man at my side decided to remain there forever
