The family room

they sit and ponder
around the table, there is cheese
and grapes.
crackers. slices of thick
stale pound cake,
cheap gin,
tonic water. nothing fancy
or elaborate,
paper plates and cups,
old chairs,
torn cushions,
the ac just barely on.
the stereo whispering
a song
by Sinatra, perry como.
the house has not changed in
thirty years,
the same thin drapes,
the rusted sheers.
there is the awkward silence,
the dryness
of the afternoon
settling in.
the unasked questions.
the elephant
in the room. it's deadly
this time of life,
to see your children so lost,
so late,
so full of sadness, so
stuck
in gloom. but hugs will
happen as each child departs,
kisses on the cheeks,
all is well, they'll reply,
everything is fine,
not to worry,
we'll see you again,
soon.