Stewing on a title for this one….

How frustrating.  My first time trying to share poetry and this darn blog won’t allow me to format it how I’d like.  So, in order to preserve the pausing intended to be created by a stanza break, I’ve inserted lines.  Forgive, please.  It really bothers me to share it this way, but it will just have to do.

They just walked away.

They stood from the table and

walked away.

_______________

Glasses half full.

Food, still on the table.

Napkins haphazardly lain aside their places.

There were to be more courses served.

More to come.

Yet, they turned away.

Silently. And continued alone.

______________

Now, the table sits alone.

Preserved.

______________

Silently.

Independently.

Unaware.

They each return to the table.

Pull out their chair.

And they would softly sit.

Silent.

Still.

Scenes from the past and future play out before their eyes.

_________________

Until,

Just as silently,

They rise to leave again.

Leaving no evidence of their visit.

No trail to be discovered.

Completely unaware of the other’s visit.

The table, still untouched.

_________________

Too much distance now.

Too much time.

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Gene Fowler

"Writing is easy: All you do is sit staring at a blank sheet of paper until the drops of blood form on your forehead." Gene Fowler

Red Smith

"There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein."

Natalie Goldberg

"So it is very deep to be a writer. It is the deepest thing I know. And I think, if not this, nothing -- it will be my way in the world for the rest of my life. I have to remember this again and again."