The table
The day somehow lifted
and drifted into
a haven of dreams
in bubbles of sweet.
The voices and laughter
and all sorts of cheese
merged with dry cider
and crusty fresh bread.
The table 0f people
with mixtures of views
bubbled in bounces
through rainbows of light.
Rising and falling
through olives and cheese
the table held elbows
and fine finger tips.
Glasses rose upwards
and clinked crystal tunes
as moments of richness
filled up the room.
Joy Weare,
10th September, 2011.
Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades
Vote for this poem
Please Comment On This Poem
|
|
|
|
|
|
| poet7925 | 
|
|
|
