Toast 25/12/2019

This time of year I think of my table
And those who share it,
No more than a dozen places.
Each year I notice some empty chairs,
Some absent friends,
Some silent faces.

This makes me grateful for my table
And for the wonders who have graced it
Over the years,
And for the mystery,
The faces
Yet to appear.

So I pour the wine
And break the bread
For empty chairs
Just the same.
We make the feast
And raise the toast,
Together we exclaim,
“To absent friends”.
(To absent friends.)

The best friends.

For once they’ve passed
All that remains,
After all the joys,
Beyond all the pains,
All that remains is
Pure
Distilled
Love.


And we take a moment
To be grateful
For this table.




Parkstreet

Ko-Fi