When the Banquet
Is over.
Later, when the banquet is over.
And all the guests have gone.
And I’m sitting here all alone.
And I don’t know what’s going on.
That’s the time to call in question
And I ask, is there anymore?
And as the last perfume still lingers.
When I slowly close the door.
And as I sit down to rest
Put up my feet and close my eyes
Thoughts of lost liaisons
Crawl into my mind like spies.
Some are sepia and fragmented
Others leaping from the screen
Some are muddled and still moving
And then I want to scream.
And later, deep in the night
I awaken and don’t know
Where I am or where I’ve been
And I’m frozen head to toe.
It’s only then I realise
That all is not how it seems
And that my mind is haunted
By nightmares and bizarre dreams.
Is it the fear of loneliness?
That grips me like a vice.
Or not knowing what comes next
And who will roll the dice?
Then much later
In the morn before the dawn
I wake and gaze out the window
And ask my god what’s going on.
©
David Rudder
2024
Thank you for reading this piece and my poetry.
