Once a Year

Every year we feast in your honour
Salute the two empty seats at the table
The food and wine sitting there as if you are still with us
We tell stories about you
The funny ones, the happy ones, the mischief ones from your youth
Nothing serious, nothing laced with sadness
We can hear the sadness at the edges of our voices
See the way some of us swallow and look away
Feel tears starting to brim in our eyes

We sing, we dance, we drink too much wine
But it is only once a year
Hand in hand we watch the sun set
Leave the table to be cleared tomorrow
Kiss our fingertips and trail them across the frame
which holds your picture
as if wood and glass could ever hope to hold ones like you