Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Poem: The Dinner Table
The Dinner Table
The table is set and quiet
as the sun outside falls behind the quarry walls,
its weak orange light flickering like fire in the windows.
You good china sits silently,
waiting perhaps for good company, or
a lover to come in the night,
and sip spring wine with you in candle light,
soft and kind like memory,
softening all it touches
with grace and warmth. You wait,
silent as silverware, for your company,
not knowing who will arrive
and whether the dinner conversation
will sparkle, or fly with sparks,
and you are left with the anticipation
of a child whose father drinks into the night,
a nervous sort of anticipation
half wonderment, half dread,
counting somehow on the fine china
and gentle light to make things
right.
===============
The photograph is of my dining room at Quarry House. You can click on it for a larger version.
Tom
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3 comments:
A beautiful poem to go with your beautiful dining room!
I so enjoyed this!
Margie :)
That poem makes me feel sad.
Tom, reading this again and there is sadness here but you expressed it just right!
You nare a wonderful poet!
Read it too quickly before.
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