Heart cold and isolated,
A man stays anchored
To his rickety kitchen table.
Fork in his unkempt hand,
He stares at the reheated
frozen food, incomparable to
A fresh home cooked meal.
It’s been so long since
Something inviting had
Greeted him from the
Dinnerplate that sat crooked
On the dirty hand woven placemat.
His brow furrowed over damp eyes
As he silently ate. He groaned.
Across from him, in dim light,
An empty walnut chair.
The only other seat
At the table with an
Unfixable irritating wobble.
He gawks, disheartened.
Hoping to see something.
But the chair remained
Unmoved and empty.