Unfamiliar table set starkly in white,
over time I admit I forgot your face,
obscure memory, rather vague.
Perhaps I can recall
or merely evade
the whole business.
I don’t remember
what we celebrated back then,
a crowd of voices, talking out of turn;
sometimes I yearn for the past
when times were more
predictable and the pies
I smelled baking — delectable
closing my eyes, I can taste them
like a warm breeze,
cinnamon apples with cheese;
Eyes brimming, I wipe away
a trace of tears and turn back
to face the table of strangers
Copyright © 2024 Julie A. Dickson
All Rights Reserved
***
Julie A. Dickson is a seasoned poet, having written for over 50 years. Her poems appear in over 75 journals, including Lothlorien, Blue Heron, Ekphrastic Review, and MasticadoresUSA. Dickson has served on two past poetry boards and as a guest editor for several publications, has pushcart nominations, has led workshops, and has several works available on Amazon.
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