The Empty Table

When you walk in the room it seems odd

Still lots of laughs from them

But Pat, who sat in the very back

We saw off last week at the crem.

And Joyce who played a simple game

And couldn't believe when she won

She too is gone and Bessie her pal

Says that bridge now isn't as fun.

And Val who moved to be near her son

Was lonely till bridge brought her luck

She's fallen, so frail and so very old

But sharp as a tack when she ducks.

I've played the game since I was nine

And taught many hundreds to play

And although I write and read and such

It's the bridge games that make my day.

These people, though old and very unfit

Share my charm with this little game

Each hand holds a promise of daring do

Nothing is ever the same.

A slam, a game, even a trick

Sounds tricky, but not very hard

And even losing is not so bad

You can always blame the cards.

I'm pleased that Pat and Joyce and Val

And Madge who'll likely be next

Found friends and fun and a mental thrill

To make their last days be blessed.