A candle burning,
stomach churning,
anxiety felt
as the heart will melt,
in less than a minute.

That minute has passed,
a red wine at last.
The anxiety rushing
as the mind is gushing,
a million thoughts or more.
A rub to the head, it feels sore.

A statue moving,
a look could be soothing,
but no just the waitor.
Who thought you were a traitor?

A raised arm to call them over,
another glass or a trip to Dover
should be more the case!
An opt for the wine
felt more right. What a swine
I was to date.
Never thought I would hate!

Not this soon anyway.
Thought that would be kept at bay
for a change.
But not tonight hey!
That would of been far too strange.

But as the minutes turn to hours
and the wine becomes sour,
humiliation a vision
as the table over there
look over and stare.

I grab my purse
and call for the hearse,
a slight trip into someone’s table.
There I was thinking I was rather stable!