The Table

Looking at a table

Wondering what type of wood it’s made of

Wondering exactly which tree gave itself

And more importantly

Who sat beneath that tree

Which lovers carved initials

What happened on the ground around it

Who walked on the leaves surrounding

And where are those lovers now

Are they still with us?

Hopefully, did that tree mean much to them

Was it there place to go in spring

Or summer when the sun came out

Autumn walks amongst the leaves

I hope they know my table made me think of them

And help me see much more than just a table

The people I won’t get to meet

At least I got more out of it

Then just somewhere to sit and eat

Or to converse with someone else

Two folks between coffee

Now there’s two more people sat down

On a once sat under tree

Looking at a stranger

Wondering what kind of life have they got

Wondering exactly what they’re going through

And where they’re going to

What do they care about

Where abouts do they go out

To let loose pre the stressful mornings

Do they feel their job is boring?

And do they know how it feels

To fall in love uncontrollably

Have they found their purpose

Or the person that they’d like to be

Around for months on end and spend

Days and nights there endlessly

I hope they’ve met someone who gives them

Everything they truly need

They may just be a stranger

But I see strangers constantly

We have so much in common

And yet not enough for us to speak

I watch the stranger walk away

They stop and look back at me

I can’t tell if I’m the stranger

Sometimes I feel like the tree