Two women at a table
As though divided by a wall;
Although one of them is speaking
There's no communication at all.
She speaks of the thirty years
Of her late son's passed life;
The other thinks of just five years
As first his lover and then his wife.
It could be two different people
That they talk and think about;
To one a missed beloved son
To the other a bully and a lout.
They look through each other
One full of pity the other of hate
Wishing it could be different,
But knowing it's too late.
Two women at that table
Each one icily polite
Just waiting for the moment
To end that dreadful night.