Restaurants are more than just places for coffee, food, and conversation. They are like micro-societies with many stories, quiet emotions, and memorable moments. The irony is that the stories in them change very often. In every corner, there’s a new narrative stretching its wings. Old friends reuniting, lovers parting, strangers lost in thought, or a poet sitting silently, observing it all!
This poem, Glances and Goodbyes, captures the heart of a poet’s observations from a restaurant. You will experience the warmth of shared laughter, the heavy goodbyes, and the silent reflections of those lost in their worlds. From the gentle stir of a spoon in a coffee cup to the hurried footsteps of a waiter, the poem is a glimpse into the human experience set against the backdrop of an Indian restaurant.
Whether it’s the sad farewell of a couple, the discussion of schoolboys, the quiet conversation of an elderly pair, or the joy of a birthday celebration, these poems invite you to step into this space, to feel the emotions brewing between sips of chai and coffee, and to see the beauty in the ordinary.
So sit back, take a sip, and let these words transport you to a restaurant where the scenes speak louder than words, and goodbyes stay long after the door closes, beating even the filter coffee’s aroma.
Glances and Goodbyes – Poetry from a Restaurant Corner
A mother in a green-yellow cotton saree lifts a spoon,
gently guiding food to her child’s wide-opened mouth.
The little one giggles between bites,
kicking his legs against the chair.
Across the table, the father stares at his phone,
jaw tight, fingers pressed against his temple.
The world moves around him,
but he is somewhere else.
In another corner, two schoolboys sip fruit juices—
one bright akin to a ripe, reddish mango on dawn-lit earth,
the other deep as crushed berries, blushing like water apple.
They come closer, speaking in hushed tones,
the weight of exams pressing against their shoulders.
One taps a pen against the table
as if answers could be written in the air.
The other stirs his straw, lost in thoughts
beyond books and classrooms.
A sudden burst of laughter fills the space,
a badly sung birthday song from a nearby table.
Office colleagues cheer as many candles flicker,
years of life frozen in the fondant of a cake.
For a moment, work emails and deadlines disappear—
only celebration, and they craved
a pause
in the routine rhythm to taste that moment!
Not far away, an elderly couple eats in silence.
Not the silence of distance,
but the kind that has learned to speak
without words.
A slight touch of hands,
a slow exchange of glances,
a knowing smile between sips of warm tea.
Near the window, two friends sit,
years of absence coming alive in the conversation.
Their voices rise and fall
Like familiar, comforting old melodies.
Memories spill across the table,
stories that waited too long to be told.
They laugh and never stop talking,
as if time had never pulled them apart.
Waiters in magenta uniforms move between them all,
balancing plates, walking between tables,
a quiet observer with too many dishes to remember,
but enough attention to understand
what each table needs.
And in the farthest corner,
a poet watches.
Not just with her eyes,
but with something deeper,
something that listens between words,
something that sees what is left unspoken.
The restaurant holds them all—
joy, distance, hope, longing.
Different lives, different burdens,
yet here, under this roof,
they all sit together,
digesting more than just food.
And she pays for just the paneer biryani
taking home million poems
the poet may churn them into something
that will never be forgotten!
But as she leaves the cafe,
near the entrance,
a man sits with his suitcase,
his coffee untouched,
his eyes fixed on the door.
Across from him,
a woman sits with a soft, uncertain smile,
her fingers trembling, trying to grip her cup.
No words fill the space between them,
only a few know
that some goodbyes
are not meant to be spoken aloud.
A car pulls up outside.
She exhales.
He stands.
Their eyes meet one last time—
a moment too brief,
too full.
Then the door swings open,
and one steps out
into the world that keeps moving.
Inside, the café moves on.
by
Shalini Samuel
