From My Table

A beautiful person walks by my table.
Their indulgent smile is not for me.

     I often indulge my weakness for beauty
     waiting for adventure in life's art museum.

The museum pictures hang separately
just as they did in my childhood room.

     All rooms make the room of my youth seem small.
     How often have I asked for an upgrade in my life?

Different grades are handed out for less work
in the school rooms off long, darkened corridors.

     Too many doors open into darkness while
     only one table stands in the wine cellar.

The table is crowned by empty wine bottles.
A beautiful person walks by my table.