Chairs upturned on tables
in the sad empty restaurant
where the ghost of a warm-up band,
and the clink of ice echo in the dark.
Footsteps from the kitchen,
a light under the door.
Masked faces dart across the street
with styrofoam boxes.
Written for the Open Link Night at dVerse, the poets pub, and in celebration of National Poetry Writing Month.
10 comments:
Enjoyed. Sad time. Same here.
Hi Tony,
Thanks. Good to hear from you!
I like your description of the band that used to play in that closed restaurant as a ghost.
Oh you've described the situation that is existing on many a street across the globe!
Frank,
Thank you! I swore I could hear it.
Lillian,
Thanks. I see it on the empty streets of world news.
This is well-expressed and vivid, especially that final image.
Takeaway, the way of surviving under trying times. Very true pic these days you depicted, Yvonne!
Hank
Funnily enough, I now live in the heart of the Yorkshire countryside, and my streets are busier than normal, with farmers working overtime. But you picture the urban reality perfectly.
Not really so where I live, but I still go for takeout every now and then... but working from home is so different...
Hank,
Thank you!
Anthony,
Thanks for the news from Yorkshire!
brudberg,
Thank you. My sister is working from home and hates it.
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