For Julia, as it’s the one holiday she would not take
May 12th
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.
Missives & Musings 
What a wonderful poem Graham. This sight of chairs turned, empty benches is so common these days. I like how you gave them a voice through this.
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Thank you Smitha, I’d glad you enjoyed it. The locus came to me some years ago when I thought about poolside tables and chairs on the Med. There are so many anecdotes about how waiters in bars and cafes just wait for the next package of people to come in and out of their lives, but then again, so do the tables and chairs.
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You know me so well Mr Parker! Fabulous piece and I feel so honoured for you to have dedicated this to me. Made my eyes all wet! Thank you and I look forward to hearing this live! ❤❤❤
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Hi Julia, I never expected moist eyes, I trust they were happy dew drops 😉
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