Unless otherwise attributed, all content, text or image, on this site is © TaunaLen 2005-2011.
All rights reserved. Republication or redistribution is prohibited without prior written consent.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Table for One

the table was spread
a banquet for one
the finest of china
silver tableware
sparkling in reflected light
from great candelabra
and she took her seat
her bare throat cloaked
by the finest lace
the rustle of silk
echoing in the room
above the muted strains
Chopin’s Prelude in E minor

the fork and spoon like
weapons clenched in her hands
and the first bite tasted
of salty tears, bitter herbs
the fresh earthy scent
of slow walks in the rain
picnics shared on the grass
the neighborhood dog park
with the irritating yip-yip
of a Yorkshire terrier
peppered throughout

the sauce bore hints
of the first song
first dance, first night
in a darkened room
and the slam of the door
echoing through the night
when he finally left

a course of sorrow
both sweet and pungent
she washed it down
with tannic regret
an acidic dry merlot

the sun broke the clouds
made It’s journey
toward the horizon
of the waking world
splashed through the pane
and blanketed her lap
she drew a deep breath
and with it possibility
a spoonful of delight
filled her mouth and soul
enough hope to press on
and as she pushed herself
from the banquet table
stood to make her way out
into the bright morning
the tightly twisted knot
of hate began to unwind

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Prompt:
a course of sorrow
a spoonful of delight
a knot of hate

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Unless otherwise attributed, all content, text or image, on this site is © TaunaLen 2005-2009.
All rights reserved. Republication or redistribution is prohibited without prior written consent.

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