The Table
18th Marchy2024

Your mind,
no longer returns,
to connect in two,
and at a table,
the sight of you,
drains the static,
from the air,
futures come to meet us,
refusing to bargain,
bring silences of burnt toast,
and heavy canvas suits,
(in thirty degrees),
children outside play ball,
tempting normalcy,
and your nature,
prevails,
unasked for,
on stages,
smaller and smaller,
bursting red at the seams,
with that,
that was,
that is,
that will be left,
lonely and confused,
under gentle strokes,
on your arm,
I pray for you,
and for me.

She has a loving, caring, people nature