The Festive Table Poem by James Timothy Jarrett
The Festive Table
The festive table
Stands alone
Robed in it's finest
Holiday garments
But there is no warm glow
Of flickering light
And laughter
No spiced scents
Drifting through
Like candied wraiths
It stands alone and empty
The cold harsh light of day
Casting it's shadow on the floor
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: death
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4/19/2024 7:22:25 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Love the gorgeous imagery evoked by this interesting poem.