Murmured conversation and cutlery scraping.
Into the restaurant he came,
As out of place as anyone has ever been.
He was older, enormous, bedraggled.
His shoulders were wide, straining against a greasy brown coat.
His hair, matted, above a weathered face.
Stopping, he seemed surprised to have arrived in the restaurant.
He turned to face our table and we caught eyes.
Words, of a sort, fell from his mouth and landed on the floor.
He was escorted out and the silence was filled once again,
With murmurs and scraping.
What a gorgeous poem! I love your poems… Keep writing 🙂
Thanks for your comment, Mymummy. Cheers, Guy.
Thank you very, very much Mymummy. I really appreciate that.