Fine china, 

      Crisp linen, 

            Rich flavors.

She paces round the table 

 wishing someone would give her a simplest favor

        of companionship,

                    of wanting,

As her life as a whole,

           alone with her fruits is 

                 haunting.

Beautiful scenes, 

           gorgeous smells,

Wafts of pear and ocean coast bells.

   Suffice with her fruit, 

          Yet saddened by its unequal counterpart 

                     of loneliness 

                            and 

                    empty glasses. 

Lack of companion drips slow                         

      like her jams 

    and 

 molasses;                                                         

            Dark.

                   Heavy.

                            Alone.