Zenfolio | Merrill Morrow | Bewley's on Grafton Street (Story)

Bewley's on Grafton Street (Story)

February 26, 2017  •  Leave a Comment

Imagine - the first class in the first term of French at TCD,
And Tommy Murtagh finding out who we all were.
A sultry voice behind me whispered ‘Caoimhe’
And the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

Hanging around later, I was close enough to hear
Her plans to meet a friend in Bewley’s on Grafton Street.
‘Hope to be there by 3 o’clock’, the friend said
‘Though it might be half past by the time I make it’.

I made sure I was there on time and noticed, with some amusement,
That the accent on the word Cafè in the floor tiles was a grave and not an acute
And, with more than a little delight, that Caomihe was by herself.
Her smile of recognition was just as she had sounded earlier in the day.

Bewley’s magnificent stain glassed windows
Witnessed many laughs and quite a few tears over the next couple of years.
And while the place and the coffee never lost its delight,
Sadly our voices and our lives eventually lost their mutual attraction.


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