Empty table

[Keith]

1st Edit


I tread barefoot with loft bound boxes,
clapping dust in sunlit streams,
follow a trail to places I’m sure of,
embarrassed by some friends I've seen.

Smiling tighter than a drum playing monkey,
I wash away nerves to fermented graves,
peer over rims to catch your arrival,
practicing words and ways to behave.

Crumbling thoughts into piles on a side plate,
scraping a chair at our table for doubt,
subtle the shame of the waiters basket,
resisting a sigh as I make my way out.

Your wardrobe contents are all tried on,
ready twice but still undressed,
memories and face fell heavy on lace,
unable to pass a widow's test.



Original

Clapping dust in streams of sunlight,
I tread barefoot on creaking planks,
follow the trail to places I’m sure of,
shaded by the dim lit lamps.

Trembling oceans crash waves of courage,
wash away nerves to fermented graves,
peer over rims to catch your arrival,
mouthing words, rehearse ways to behave.

Crumbling thoughts into piles on a side plate,
setting a place at our table for doubt,
subtle the shame of the waiters basket,
last supper spent, I make my way out.

Your wardrobe contents are all worn,
my numbers typed but failed to press,
makeup smeared, run with tears,
you couldn’t settle for second best.