All dressed in your finery. Finger bowls
and children scrubbed in polite veneer.
A shining silver bell on the table.
Ring, ding, apron bibbed maidens
with hair wrapped tight
appear.

Me at my own table, (yours?) dressed in jeans and a tee.
Cats meowing and no-one to bring the next dish.
Bowls all on the table, grab
what you like, a smörgåsbord

Chatter and scraping forks didn't bother
you. Your element and time, me in mine, how
did they cross?. I wondered why you didn't see me, I
certainly saw you in your 20th century attire.

I watched in stunned silence as you dabbed
the corners of your mouth with your fine
linen cloth in my dining room.
Me with a paper towel.

I hope you'll be back, maybe we
can chat about when you left this life.

Janet Caldwell
August 7th, 2010
Photo Slifer House Sitting Room