Metamorphosis (Cafe del Manso)

     
Had not noticed the colour of the walls      
drinking coffee from a mug,      
a plate and Danish pastry,      
Times to read beside the door      
rain outside, prams and umbrellas.    
     
Now eight,blinds are drawn      
up-lights with triangle beams      
light the walls, red and cosy.      
The door springs shut,      
candles on the tables, flowers, pots      
knives, forks and bread-sticks,    
      
The hum of conversation       
smiled hellos, 'Come in'.      
Merlot, from the supermarket      
bought on the way to dinner,      
well worth three pounds corkage.  
      
The place transformed,      
the welcome mug at noon      
nowhere to be seen,      
table mat where the Times was read.    
     
Metamorphosis in a trice.      
A menu to be read..Italian      
translated underneath.      
We chose, unscrew the bottle,      
ciabatta, meat and olives      
gentle music, whispers      
knives, forks and clinking toast      
waiting for secondi.    
     
Good night . . . and paid the bill      
dusk at half past nine,      
empty streets and threats of rain      
memories......wine and food,      
Red painted walls, candles on the table.