A Place For All


The smell of mince pies, freshly baked
Assailed the air
Challenging one to not smile
While listening to the banter
Of those gathered around tables
Restaurant style
Awaiting the fare.

Breakfast was over, dishes removed
By cards and board games
Challenging the brain
While music in the background
Streamed from the kitchen
Just loud enough to hear.


Drop In!
For a hot meal, a drink
Coffee Tea Water Milk
Fresh Juice and food prepared
By cheerful pleasant Volunteers
Who mind their own business –
Unless invited yours to share.

Not to say they don’t care
For why else would they be here
From the crack of Dawn?
No, they merely know their places
As cooks and scrubs and servants
Big brothers and aunties and mothers
And helping hands.

Lunch bears no pretenses
And holds no shame
Just solid fare brought to table
With a smile and no blame
While sandwiches bagged earlier
Wait on the counter
To be later given away.


Old young pretty or thin
Hard of hearing
Black white or gray
Eloquent stuttering or dumb
Or even sight-impaired,
Alone single or coupled
No discrimination here.


The Tab Centre, they call it
A place for all, they say
Where friends can meet and relax
In a kindly atmosphere.
Where once you’ve been
You leave recharged
And go happily on your way.




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