A ten-minute poem based on the prompt 'plus', given on the Readers' Digest poetry page I'm following.
Plus one
It’s meaningless, this plus one
You so wish I would bring.
I am here, though alone,
Accompanied by my thoughts.
I only want to sit in the corner,
Tucked away from the bustle,
Eat a little dinner, something light,
Drink a glass of sweet red wine.
Here I can watch the people,
Listen to their funny stories,
Enter their unique lives,
But remain anonymous.
What does it matter to you?
It is only me, the widow
As my dearest plus one
Passed so, so long ago.
copyright Vickie Johnstone
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