Dinner Alone Poem by The Peak Oil Poet

the gentle murmur of the voices
a sudden joyous laugh
and over here a rising enthusiasm swamps
for a time
before blending back
into the pleasant din of my kind
I close my eyes and listen for my own voice
amongst the sounds
but any could be mine or none
for i sit here alone

i gaze amidst the faces
the couples, young and old
close and distant
the occasional almost flirtatious contact with the eyes
of another
the smiles and the general gaiety lift me
and soon i'm drifting with the flow
for this is togetherness
as much as it might ever be
for i sit here alone