tabled

my hands are cold

I keep rubbing my arms & hands

The sun shines through the window

but I must be too far away to feel the warmth

he’s late & I toy with my ring

absently comparing my beaten silver

to his smooth gold

feeling alone & obvious

the news has gone off

no more stories of traffic & cars

doing what they’re not supposed to

And I wonder how long I should stay

at a single table with two menus

Others have come and gone now

filled & moving on with their lives

But

Here I remain

not single me

still waiting for married you