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Tuesday, February 15, 2011

STARBUCKS LOVE POEM, Early Sunday Evening Sorrow

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Early Sunday Evening Sorrow

Another early Sunday evening has arrived.

You, you are gone, abroad;
I sit by myself at Starbucks, and drink coffee.

Instead of us sharing our dinner together tonight,
I write verse about how much I miss you.

The notion, that adage about absence making
The heart grow fonder, is nonsense,
To me no more than a hill of beans!*

I am no fonder, no fonder of you than I was
Ten minutes ago at the start of this poem.

I am no fonder of you today than yesterday,
Than last week, than weeks ago,
When you departed on business,
Left me in this big, old town, alone,
During that time, since then, my love,
My love for you has not an iota grown.

Tonight I am simply sad.
I am lonely.
I feel terrible without you.

*A colloquial American expression as in “it ain’t worth a hill of beans”, Humphrey Bogart says it to Ingrid Bergman at the end of the film Casablanca, which brings the phrase into world-wide notice. “Ilsa, I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world”.

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