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We worked together in the same hotel in a coastal town,
I was a cook; she was doing the washing up…Her name
was Ella, one of the few names I recall from my youth.
When we were busy, she often looked at me and smiled,
at quiet time, we drank coffee she had made. I had many
girlfriends but Ella was my friend. The pay at the hotel
wasn´t much, so I quit and went back to sea again.
At the railway station, Ella was the only one who came
to say goodbye, I kissed her; her aroma of love lingered
on my lips. I promised to write but the dizzying dance
of life went on and I never wrote.
I drove back to the coastal town, the hotel wasn´t there,
had been replaced by a supermarket, no one knew Ella.
But I sensed her nearness, so I walked in streets we had
walked, came to a small café, I saw her serving coffee.
I entered, she hadn´t changed much, she served me, but
she didn´t remember me. Full of sadness knew I had
pursued a past that could not be repeated.
But just as I was about to leave, a furrow creased her
forehead and she remembered me…. Forty years, a bit
late for children, but I now work in her café as a cook.
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