They say it’s sad to eat alone

Pathetic to sit in a restaurant,

But the woman dining in solitude

Has a sophisticated dignity

From the onion soup to the apple tart.

She occupies a corner among the din of conversation

And maintain as gently firm as a mother

A withdrawn, pensive projection.

Reading and gently shutting her eyes at times

Accompanied by a briefcase of accomplishments

Seems to suit her mood just fine.

And this proud self-assuredness is becoming

To her stature and her face, tired but calmly alive

Softly lit by the candlelight beside her water glass

Hold the salt, watch my heart; throw down the pepper, live a little she proclaims

She told me stories as she sipped her cafe au lait

About the husband who would insist on sharing her food

But first would have to blow on it for her

If he were here

And the daughter who is renting out her apartment in San Francisco’s nicer district

During her time working for Doctors Without Borders

And watching her live a quality movie

Makes me feel so much better about not having anyone to care for me

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I write poetry, prose, and personal pieces. All images are mine unless indicated otherwise. Feel free to leave feedback on my work anytime; I hope you enjoy.

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