Holding Court

She sits inside the coffee shop,
Each morning, when I pass,
Right up in front, the seat the same;
I see her through the glass.

Her hair is short and silver white
And sometimes she’s alone,
Her laptop on the table
Or she’s talking on the phone.

At other times, companions
Share her table and they chat
In animated fashion,
I suppose of this or that.

I’ve got to give her credit
For she’s there most every day,
Her special place awaiting her
From where she’ll hold her sway.

I wonder what would happen
If somebody claimed her seat.
I have a strong suspicion
The usurper would retreat.