For Julia, as it’s the one holiday she would not take
A patio, a quartet unspoken,
Four black backs turned, inviting collusion.
Their quiet contemplation unbroken,
Exhausted, slumped at the table; all in.
Perhaps they’re mourning the soon coming day,
Or maybe ruined the previous night?
Preferring their silence, they do not say,
Allied in muteness in crisp morning light.
Perhaps they’re waiting, to offer their seats,
To the tired and weary, needing of rest?
Who waste time telling tales, left incomplete,
Cease then depart, making space for the next.
Eloquent spaces, with so much to tell,
This all-inclusive is heaven and hell.
Please do leave me your thoughts and comments, in praise or constructive criticism, I appreciate them all and will reply.