Table 104 has fallen silent.
I wait for her
and the moments
we shared
to return…
…but time refuses to let them go…
We sat opposite each other
and above the surface
hearts played
eyes met
in simple enjoyment
and idle conversation.
If I had extended my hands,
would she have held them there?
I reach my hands out now
and find an empty chair.
A table is unoccupied,
the loneliness reflected
in its grains.
It is table 104.
Do I sense it weeping?
I think I hear it groan
with an understanding and compassion
born of many such tragedies,
for I do not believe my loss here would have been its first,
and it...
we... will never get used to it.
Time leaves vacancies
and silences
it seems.
Table 104, if you knew this, why did you not warn me!?
I will not hold this against you,
for there was ever hope
for a pleasant future
between two who once sat opposite over you
in exploring moments
that will ever exist between genders...
Time, if you were paper,
I would crumple you
in despair.
What are you, Time,
when you leave behind a beautiful relationship
at table 104?
And what of you, Life?
You have become but a silly poem
with a lousy title
left behind on an empty chair.
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