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(b)Roly's Bistro(/b>
As I sit in Roly's
Bistro in Ballsbridge
Sipping white burgundy
And relishing my wild
Mussels and pan fried
Monkfish, three young women
Sit across the room with
An elderly lady and gentleman.
Two blondes and
One with raven hair.
Each of them wears it long
And full and loose around
Her shoulders. I watch
Them break their bread
Spoon their soup, taste
Their wine and slowly slice
Their steak. Suddenly the
Woman with the pale skin,
Dark eyes and deep black
Hair leans back and
with both hands knots
Her hair behind her.
One blonde repeats the gesture,
A moment later the third
Joins in ritual progression
There in the warm
Glow of the bistro
The alcohol lamps
And the soft light
Under crystal
Bells. I wonder:
The three Graces
Or the three Fates?
What message do they
Bring, these three
Who will not raise their
Eyes to me this windy,
Howling March night
Here in Ballsbridge,
Dublin, Ireland?
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