leftovers

we were called to dinner
nothing of a fanfare or ceremony
it smelled of its usual goodness

there was nothing special
in taste
in colour
in aroma

silver clanked
glass clinked
teeth clunked

nothing to say this day was
or should have been
out of the ordinary

only when we were to clean up;
to clear the table
to clear the counters
a hush fell upon the duties

the empty bowls on the floor
now filling out stomaches

he wasn't there to eat
the leftovers

vera ©