Italian Restaurent

A reservation is a must, and we have one;
the owner sees us to our table, calm, polite;
and even as we seat ourselves, the waitress comes:
fresh water, menus, order wine, and start the night.

The ambiance and conversations start to build:
we dip the bread in olive oil and vinegar
sip rich red wine and flashing smiles and drink our fill
of family stories born in warm Italian vinyards.

A salad, antipasto in a pesto poem
and more red wine and doughy bread and olive oil
and simmering homemade pasta with the taste of home
and friendly conversation in a family style.

Finally chilled tartuffo with a chocolate dust
and aromatic coffee in which we dip biscotti
then dawdling over the evening and the music as we must
until we head for home, relaxed, concupiscent, naughty.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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