There is a booking tonight
An urn of coffee is heating
Biscuits are plated beautifully
But no one attends the meeting

There is some conversation
Like voices in the distance
Shadows move under the lights
But no attendees are in existence

No one recalls the appointment
The last to leave does not even glance
Just turns off lights in an empty room
Which are turned back on by unseen hands

They do not quite recall each other
Smiling at strangers each time they meet
Still, it is nice to see those who see them
and it will be just as nice the same time next week