At Table

I sat with you
at table. Among friends
we broke bread
and your hand reached for mine.

Sup wine from my cup,
steal sweets from my plate;
All good things I have
I offer to you, serve them up.

Are your cheeks flushed?
or is it candlelight and fireside -
the heat of the hall?
or is it my touch, cooler than air...

I sit beside you
at table. We are blessed
in each other and friends
and joined by merry words.


Geraldine Moorkens Byrne