The Dinner Party
The cars pull up, the doorbell’s rung.
To a hugging welcome, in they come.
With gifts wrapped up and tied with bows
There is warm handshaking, more hello’s.
The men bring in some good red wine
That will go down nicely, when we dine.
We stand, at first, renewing friendship links
While the host is scurrying, pouring drinks.
Then into chairs, we sink to chat
About trips, and kids, and this and that.
Slowly, surely, we all get louder
Telling stories that make us prouder.
The hostess dashes, with some concern,
The oven’s smoking, the food might burn.
Then from the kitchen wafts a gorgeous smell
“The food is ready”, comes a welcome yell
To the table we slowly go.
Each place is marked; a name will show
Each guest where he should sit.
It’s carefully planned for a gourmet hit.
The meal that’s served is fit for a king.
Praise the cook we loudly sing.
The company’s good, with laughter more
Another highlight in memory’s store.
Coffee’s drunk, but they stay awhile.
The friendships great, with plenty a smile..
Time takes its toll, and they start to leave
But when they’re gone, it’s time to grieve.
There’s dirty cutlery, and plates to wash
If I were a Greek, I’d give them a bash.
Next day, of course, the phone line hums
Scores are settled, invites come.
It’s my turn now to enjoy a feast.
If the truth be known.
I’m a Party Beast.
Copyright © Patrick Maitland | Year Posted 2012
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