A covenant was made.
You trod on my soil.
You breathed my air.
Here, tonight,
I am having dinner.
The hall would have fit in
Many exuberant guests,
But I only see myself
And my toddler’s chair.
The table is set.
Cutleries in their neat order.
I sniff the folded serviette.
It is your very smell.
I sit and wait,
But the main course does not come.
Nor that glass of water.
With one last look
In the menu book,
I see that my choice is not there,
But my name is.
Nonetheless,
I sit up, feeling full
Then I signal and call,
“Can someone pass the dessert
Of two cinnamon rolls!”
I bite every crumb and morsel.
I savor every morsel and crumb.
Then I stand up and
Dig down my purse
To tip the waiter.
I wipe my lips one last time
With tear-stained serviette,
And with two steady hands
I push back in
My toddler’s sturdy chair.
Outside, the jealous moon stares
As I tread on my soil.
As I breathe my air.
Maria Evelyn Quilla Soleta
Maria Evelyn Quilla Soleta is a poet/writer whose thoughts and subjects, especially on motherhood, are unadorned, truthful, and purposely warm. She started to write when she was six, wrote short stories for anthologies, and has published three poetry books—My Twenty Poems, Finding My Heart, and Chasing Sunsets with You. Evelyn’s husband Danny, her four girls Andrea, Guia, Daniella, and Laura, and grandchildren Tala, Mayla, and Lucas, are her inspiration to pursue this first love of hers—writing.
