A posture that ignores a constant knock on the door Turning away stubbornly and not to look back again; not even in repentance The hands are burdened with collected memorabilia Wooden table looks forlorn, a frozen quadrupedal looks dumbfounded No more coffee stains and endless gossips about the rations Now, space will be occupied with reclusive stirring of emotions Window will stare at the half-eaten … Continue reading At a Table