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.