Coffee Shop

I sat in the corner, as I usually do,

In the soft morning air, mid the coffee shop fumes.

An old man approached, “Do you mind if I sit?”

“Have we met?” “Yes, Lad—though you’ve likely forgotten it.”

“I knew you,” he said, “when your spirit was young,

With dreams in your eyes and a much sharper tongue.

But over the years, you softened to fit,

And traded your fire for a hollower wit.

It made me upset, you were never supposed to become like this

You were made strong and resilient, which carried a charge

To walk on your own, to endure stones and smart

Instead you shied away from what made you, you

You traded your traits for somebody new

You weren’t built this way, and for good reason

You were made to be different, bring about new seasons

Instead you conformed to everyone here

You threw away your gifts, and for what? I cannot say

I built you different, it’s something the world needed

Not for variety, but for good reason

If we all were the same, what a terrible scene

A book of monotony, unworthy to be seen

What the world needed was you all along

For you to be unrelentingly you, a unique voice and song

I sat down today, to say it’s never too late

To recapture your gifts, but it will take great strength

As time has elapsed, so has the distance between

Who you are now, and what you were meant to be

So start on your journey, when your coffee is done

That is why I came here today, to remind you, you’re still not quite done

There’s life in those lungs, and strength in your back

To resurrect the old you, bring him back from the dead

I think I’ll be going, thank you for tea

And the seat, and the chat, you were always better than me.”

“How do I know you old man? Was it from my younger days?”

“You’ve known me forever son, regardless of what you might say.”

“Are you my dad? He ran away when I was just a kid.”

“Something like that, perhaps slightly more big.”

I sat at the table as I watched him walk softly away

Out the door, turned the corner, nothing more to say

So I finished my coffee with the challenge he left

The old man is gone

No one to tell me if I’m right or I’m wrong

Then I looked down, at the chair where he sat

A picture of me, a much younger lad

I sat with my mother , I remember the day

I told her who I would be, “A great man someday.”

I picked up the picture and walked out the door

“Fuck it,” I thought—here’s to being me once more