Loneliness

The sun bleeds over mountains,
plays with red shadows on white walls.

Soft music and white light
outline a cold room
with a small table
graced by one candle,
one plate,
and two glasses of red wine.

The only sounds,
apart from the symphony,
are the shuffling of two feet
and the striking of silver on delicate china.
Fine white linen sheets cover
soft, perpetually tidy beds.

Now red fades to purple
and finally turns black,
as the stars peek out
but are still seen only by few.

The symphony's soft melody escalates,
reaches toward Heaven--
falls--
As the world daintily sips
the sweet nectar of slumber.