We mostly eat in silence,
After 50 years together
there’s really nothing much left to say –
We disagree on everything any way.

I look across from our rickety table
into her tired, forlorn eyes
and see years of struggle,
hurt, resentment and complaints.
I look around our rented, crummy apartment
full of worn-out books, magazines,
newspaper clippings, paid bills and handout furniture –
Really not much to show for a lifetime of harvesting.

The two of us who are mostly good,
Who raised good kids,
Who dotted all the i’s, who crossed all the t’s,
Who paid their taxes and their bills on time,
Who prayed diligently, who toed the line
every step of the way,
Working side by side, day in and day out –
Yet, no spoils good enough to bring home to.

With kids all grown up and long gone
and the sun finally set,
Oh, I wonder...
what will the night be like?

We both get up at the same time
our plates in hand –
Don’t eat much these days, you know;

Now time and old age hover around us like
the beleaguered butler
with a frayed towel over his arm.