To the naked eye, it’s an empty chair
Off white or weathered, maybe
Whether it is or isn’t is moot
The conversation I’m having with it is still a hoot
Or should I say, the face I see
The voice I hear
Between the waves crashing off the promenade
And the murmurings of other guests
It really is a busy night for dining
The bustle and the humidity
This table is a small sanctuary
Still, the clinking and drinking is causing such a din
I wish they’d hush so I could hear you better
Would it be rude for me to shush them?
Maybe confusing
Yeah, perhaps I shouldn’t
Let’s not indulge the delusion
You’re in my ear
For once I’ll say, speak louder so I can hear
First time for everything
I wonder what you’re saying
There’s a sarcastic twinkle in your eye
Don’t deny it, I can see
What is it you find so funny?
Okay, fine, I’ll stop hassling, let’s eat…
But when I look back to catch you off-guard
It’s the off white chair looking back
Slightly weathered, maybe
I forgot it was empty
I forgot I was…
There’s no…
It’s just me
Tag: solo travelling
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Al fresco solo
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