When Rose’s Diner closed 
It wasn’t banner news; 
The smell of coffee, clinking cups 
Moved past any reviews 
And into realms of memory. 
Once I here, with my boy 
Would sit and laugh of mornings 
In our unknowing joy; 
But life tears down what it builds up, 
The tiny ways that we’re bereft: 
A 1914 building, blank, 
Is all of Rose’s Diner 

Left