She bustled ‘round the kitchen
like the very best of wives,
and with love she set the table—
two spoons, two forks, two knives.
She now remembers smiling
at the one she loves that day,
two actors waiting in the wings
for cues to start the play.
So life keeps going onward,
time flies, new ones arrive,
and she found she kept on adding
one more spoon, one fork, one knife
until her table glistened
with the silverware she set.
She hoped that it would always be
that way for them, and yet,
the time that kept on adding
soon began to take away—
a knife, a fork, a spoon again
until, finally, one day
with love she set the table
with two of each again,
smiling at the one she had
when all of it began.
But, oh, I hope that never
in their simple play of life
will she set the table, slowly—
one spoon, one fork, one knife.