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.
March 27, 2021 at 9:30 pm
On point as always. Very visual. The depth of this pushes me to read it over and over. Awesome work.
March 28, 2021 at 4:39 am
Thanks Olive. I having a bit of a lull but this poem feels like the start of a new chapter of sorts.