deepundergroundpoetry.com
Victims of Circumstance
"Let us remember those whose
holy temples have perished
and souls continue on,"
she says with a clink of her glass.
Everyone takes their respective drinks while
Two pairs of eyes connect. Two strangers of consequence,
watching, listening, reading, and knowing;
they hold their gazes until chatter cuts silence.
People are dressed in their finest black.
Soft murmurs fill the rooms.
Only children eat the sympathetic pastas.
The air smells of mourning flowers.
Finally the strangers officially meet--
they shake hands and say "hello."
A sad commonality binds them.
In conversation, they are alone.
When the last hug and condolence is given
the rooms stand utterly vacant.
The ceiling fan whispers loudly.
Sometimes there is a such thing as "goodbye."
holy temples have perished
and souls continue on,"
she says with a clink of her glass.
Everyone takes their respective drinks while
Two pairs of eyes connect. Two strangers of consequence,
watching, listening, reading, and knowing;
they hold their gazes until chatter cuts silence.
People are dressed in their finest black.
Soft murmurs fill the rooms.
Only children eat the sympathetic pastas.
The air smells of mourning flowers.
Finally the strangers officially meet--
they shake hands and say "hello."
A sad commonality binds them.
In conversation, they are alone.
When the last hug and condolence is given
the rooms stand utterly vacant.
The ceiling fan whispers loudly.
Sometimes there is a such thing as "goodbye."
Published 18th Jul 2013
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