Dim the lamps and light the candles,
Lay the table for one.
Fill the glasses and serve the salad,
No need to wait for anyone.
Acoustic guitars and mournful vocals,
Explosions of flavour on the tongue.
Soft light thrown against the walls,
But there’s only the shadow of one.
Silver cutlery clinking together,
The muted crunching of walnuts.
It is not completely silent, but yet,
A conversation-free night.
A wet nose presses against my leg,
A tsunami of slobber on my knee.
My darling canine companion,
Even he can’t turn one into two.
A memory sits across the table from me,
The curves of his jaw are familiar.
His grey eyes framed by long lashes,
Remind me of someone I lost.
A strange calm seeping through the room,
An acceptance of the illusion of loneliness.
Because one is not incomplete, not a half,
Just as two is not a whole, but two wholes.
This candlelit dinner for one is temporary,
The ephemeral memory will fade.
You are sitting across me once again,
Making it a candlelit dinner for two.
