Little Cafe

There's a family beside me at the cafe this morning
They came from a funeral downtown
The Mrs. keeps going on about the weather
Her daughter just stares at the ground

And the Mr.'s just sittin'
Like someone dropped him there
Solemnly pecking at his eggs
Till he makes a little chuckle and all I hear him say
Is "She can't enjoy that weather when she's dead anyway."
"She never was that fond of me" he says
While the baby in his lap keeps on bobbing his head

And my waitress tries smiling as her hands are prying
The laminated menus apart
There's lines on her face
Her name tag says "Grace"
And she's pinned it right over her heart

She says, "Sorry we're swamped now"
I say "Take your time now"
Without a protest she just says "Ok."
When she comes for my order she shakes and drops her pen
Pulls one from her pocket and asks for it again
The sign says "Open Late
Since 1958"

And I wonder just how many
Hard words full of meaning
Have rolled around this little room and died
Just like the words that found you that day
You told me you were walkin' away
And I think of them again
And I wonder where you've been
Since you left me in this little cafe