The Table

I was happy to be sat at the table,

And when I was fed I felt overjoyed.

I knew I was privileged,

I doubted my worth enough
To know there were others
Far more deserving than I

As I tucked into the pie
And the dauphinoise potatoes.

There were moments I felt guilty,
I thought of those not here
And those who never were,

All my misdeeds and wrongdoings,
The moments of shame;

Then as I finished my main I looked around,

I saw plates left half eaten,
Pie crusts and vegetables left sauntering
Around white china landscapes,
Unloved and bereft.

I was happy when I left the table,

I ate all the food
But I stopped drinking half way through,

And the cake at the end
Was just me being polite,

I was needed back home.

There were adverts to watch.

2 Responses to “The Table”

  1. On point as always. Very visual. The depth of this pushes me to read it over and over. Awesome work.

  2. Thanks Olive. I having a bit of a lull but this poem feels like the start of a new chapter of sorts.

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