Friday Poem: Cake Man

I know nothing about this man, apart from what is in this poem. I wish I did – I’d like to know his story. Is he recently widowed, with no one to cook for him anymore – and did his late wife never let him have cake? Maybe he knows his days are numbered, and he’s eating cake while he can. If I ever find out, I’ll be sure and let you know…tea tray

An old guy
with a beard
somewhere between  hipster
and Santa
A peaked cap
on his old white head
In his 70’s
maybe 80’s
Hard to say
Looks pretty skinny
under his khaki jacket.

It’s the third time I’ve seen him
in here
In the bakery cafe.

His order each time –
An assortment of cakes and slices
This time I count seven
There might be eight
Hard to tell
with them all piled up on a plate
like that.

He has a mug of tea
not too hot
Today he has a meat pie
with sauce
which he eats slowly
methodically
with a knife and fork.

It’s not all about dessert.

I have to leave
before he gets to the cakes.oct2010 015 (Large)

This isn’t one of his cakes – it’s a dessert taco we invented a few years ago – but you get the idea!DSCF7091 (Large)

I’m an introvert – well over to that side of the scale. I guess that’s why I like the internet, and it’s also a reason for liking sitting on my own in cafes, with a coffee and a notebook (and maybe something sweet) close to hand. Sometimes all I write is lists of things I need to do, but if I’m lucky, and paying attention, I get to glimpse someone else’s life, and take notes.

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