Following on from our varied selection of Valentine’s Day poems, we bring you Sherri Andrew’s atmospheric work…
A Solitary Table
It is always the early evening,
When the wood is exposed,
and the chipped paint is uncovered
by the incandescence of the night.
People look on and frown but never sit,
judgement flows like the inevitable rain,
A wash of disgust in their eyes,
staring at the solitary table.
Its legs have been kicked countless times,
The surface scratched with meaningless initials,
underneath the stains of people’s remains,
little bother, fewer care.
The solitary table has been cast aside,
like the chocolate in the box no one wants.
The worst choice, not even second best,
one to be avoided at all cost.
In Gig Harbour beside the ocean blanket,
The water is motionless
beside the diner, waiting,
anticipating what might happen.
Overlooking the diner, a sound
escapes from the water,
a ripple moves towards the door,
walks in, sits down in the corner.
A finger rolls across the table top,
wipes away the layer of dust,
Uncovers the colour underneath,
discovering the wild cherry.
The blanket is finally washed,
And a sigh of relief escapes the breath,
which has been waiting, always waiting,
to discover the zeal in its core.
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