“ The Man ” ~ of two glasses ~

He sits to face

An empty space,

Across a table

Where time ago

A chair left bare,

Yet so reflects

A face he loved,

Remains aglow,

Upon a glass

Of pale rosé…


Each forlorn day

In vain he stares,

With musing’s play,

One can near feel

Her presence there, 

His mind will trace

Upon the empty chair,

Memory of her face                                                           

That will not part

That special space,

Fixed in his heart…


Alas the man

Said of two glasses,

Sits so to face

That empty space

As time so passes,

But for a moment dwells,

On memory only he can tell!

4 thoughts on ““ The Man ” ~ of two glasses ~

    • Thank you Paulette. An old memory of a true story, from my days living in the south of France where for some time, as habitues, we lunched near daily. I could never forget that ‘homme triste’ at a table set for two, with a half full glass of rosé wine across from him for his absent guest, as he always lunched alone.

      One day I was told by the restaurant owner friend of ours, that this man’s ritual of two glasses was in memory of his deceased wife, with whom he had lunched at that café for years. I was very touched, never forgot it, and was inspired to write this poem.

      Sorry for the blabbering, (might even be longer that the poem) but felt the need to share with another sensitive being… Jean-Jacques

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