Table For One
Chill in the air
Crowd forms in the courtyard
Standing, facing, masked, but seen
He stands waiting, with axe in hand
He knows who he is
It becomes an inescapable prison
Whereby he’s free to walk
But, he’s never free
Procession follows
Sounds, tumult, stones
Still, he waits
Time, for whom has it stopped?
His role is obvious
Job to do, then leave
The sun now descends
As his stomach grumbles
Yet, he waits, watching
The time is now, preparation
His arms raise and fall
The day is done
Off then, disrobing of cloth
Unable to disrobe fate, guilt
Dinner, home, life
Is his lonely plight
The executioner dines and dies alone
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