We sat at the table
Not knowing what to expect,
Our first time in the restaurant
That cooked West Indian food.
The blonde lady came to us
To take our order,
Her accent neither British
Or West Indian,
But there was laughter within her
As she took our orders.
Then we started talking,
My Granddaughter and I.
So long since we had sat down,
Sat down at table together.
And talk we did,
About family,
About life,
About hopes,
About goals.
The food came to us
And each dish was wonderful,
But still we talked.
We laughed,
We had moments of sadness,
But throughout it all
Our friendship pervaded.
Family is good,
But this friendship is so deep,
This friendship between us,
Between Grandfather and Granddaughter,
May seem odd,
But not to us as we can talk from our hearts,
Talk without constraint.
The meal came too quickly to an end,
A great evening,
One that will be repeated before very long.
The one thing that may seem strange
When looking back may be
These two people,
A generation between them,
These two English people,
In a West Indian restaurant,
Being served by a Latvian waitress.