Silences Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

He sat across from her
at lunch. The fan blades
did not stir. In the heat
the slow flies bunched
on sugar crumbs.

They did not speak,
they did not dare,
their shattered dreams
suspended there.

The fuchsia by the window
with pendulous bright bells
did not make a single sound
to break the brittle spell.

At last the waiter came across
silently to take away the empty
cups and plates. His deft cloth
flicked away the crumbs. The table
lay between them, neatly cleared.