Still Life

They sat
back to back
in the bright ginghammed cafe.

(Their carers had left them
to pay for scones and tea)

He stared with empty eyes
at the blue green hills
spread out like a quilt.

Her eyes were empty too
as she studied her hands
gnarled into soft claws.

Two strangers
who didn't know
where they were
or who they were
or why they were sitting
so still
so still
in the bright ginghammed cafe.

I folded my unread newspaper.
A small wisp of distant smoke
curled like a ribbon.

by Alison Cassidy

Comments (18)

Hi, Allie! This scene is wonderful; I can see it so vividly through your writing - excellent images! Have a wonderful day! Beth
Beautifully done. Muriel Rukeyser defined poetry as 'a meeting place...poetry asks us to feel and to respond.' Your poem certainly fits this definition in more than one way.
Good work honey! This is a really good poem.
So tightly knit, yet so open to imagination. The first poem of yours i chose to skim my eyes over, and i've been drawn in already. I do agree with your view that the urge to create is universal. I have a few new poems up.. any criticisms or comments you might make would be greatly appreciated! Take care, Mark.
Against a beautiful background, two lost and lonely souls sit silently. As always great imagery. Take care
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