POEM - Wonton Soup

The gray air sat

Motionless

On the shoulders of everyone

Bustling along

The busy Portland street

Fall tries so hard

To hold you in place

The set up for winter

When the crystal ice

Covers every stationary inch

I thought nothing of winter

My hand grasped tight

As my father led me along

We’d met him for lunch

Found him standing on the street

Awaiting our arrival

Just outside his office

Near the Lloyd District

We sought sustenance

In the Chinese restaurant

Nestled in the bottom corner

Of some old building

Bright and warm and welcoming

The cold, wet outside air

Clung to the windows

But got no further

The steam rose and gasped

While delightful smells circulated

Soon I received soup

Something new

Not the egg drop variety

I had become enamored of

This was thin and savory

With floating noodle triangles

As I bit into the slick noodles

There was a little surprise

A tasty little cube of pork

The sky tried hard to break in

Hurt by how easily we forgot

That just outside the window

A chill wind blew

Indifferent I warmed my belly

Slurping down wonton soup