Out for a late lunch and so were they,
a perfect family in a corner, facing the bay.
But the imperfections showed in their eyes.
Hers had long lost their sparkle; living lies.
It’s not the first time that I’ve perceived
that faraway look. Can it be retrieved,
the love that surely resided in their hearts
before vows crumbled into isolated parts?
Her eyes held weariness and sorrow captive
in an aging face that was once very attractive.
He nursed his beer, doubtless about its taste,
a scowl crossed his face, somberness-laced.
Had they quarreled or was this just a sign
of a love that had long lost its gleaming shine?
It’s not the first time I’ve seen such desolation
dining out together with very little conversation.
I wonder what happens to marriages like this
when couples feel empty, forgotten their first kiss.
Going through the routines like a clock in machine
even with the blessing of children in between.
As they stand up to leave and pay their bill
I toast to us and take another Sangria refill.
An unsettling sandstorm rolls across the shore
as I join in the laughter behind that closed door.