Ghazal

It was meant to be a grand night instead, so they said.
We’d leave laughing and overfed, so they said.

The streetlights warmed the square with a soft glow,
The music would outshine regret, so they said.

The plates were filled, the wine kept finding glass,
We’d taste the joy we’d always fled, so they said.

But laughter thinned, the chairs began to scrape,
No dance would start, no word was spread, so they said.

The feast turned cold, the talk grew small and tired,
Tomorrow would be better fed, so they said.

At dawn I saw their seats still neatly placed,
The ones who spoke had long since fled, so they said.