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Breakfast Table

The table is set: one fork, a knife
and spoon; one egg, one plate, and
a single cup of coffee in
a clean white porcelain mug.
Who would have thought a meal alone
would prove to be so tedious?
Each day seems much the same
as the day before and so
those that follow seem to converge.
Four years ago to the day
I closed her eyes and kissed her cheeks,
gray and ashen though they were.
No tears: they dried out years before,
gone with her fading memory.
I have learned the kitchen table,
once a scene of food and feuds
has now become a lonely place.