It was 11:43pm and the table still sat in silence.
Your chair tucked in while mine sat askew.
My plate sat empty while yours sat quietly.
It joined the candles in abandoning its warmth.
My fork and spoon stared at each other from the floor.
It learnt the demeanour from us I suppose.
Your meal will always be waiting but I won’t be.

(Special Shout to Olivia for the inspiration.)