After The End
The sideboard was full of magazines.
Not whole magazines but
pages torn from them.
Pages of recipes.
Meals never eaten.
Exotic desserts never attempted.
Guests never invited or entertained.
At least the furniture had been used,
had had many years of use.
The clothes had been worn,
the pictures admired and enjoyed.
But the recipes were the saddest thing.
So many of them
for so many people
who never came.