The Fork Told the Spoon

By Barbara Schilling Hurwitz

I know it’s cold here set on this empty dining room table, behind shuttered restaurant doors, where the lingering scent of sumptuous food has dissipated. The hustle of waiters, the soft conversations and the sounds of clinking glasses are now all shadows of memories. Gone are the warm hands that once caressed us as we sank into the chef’s luscious indulgences. And most of all, we miss the mouthwatering lips between which we slipped, and the tongues that licked us clean.

But we’re not alone. We’re lucky to have each other to cling to through these otherwise dreary, lonely days.


“I write to keep my mind active and thoughts positive through these troubling days.” – the writer

2 thoughts on “The Fork Told the Spoon

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