Two Chairs

Two chairs side by side in a garden;
in the distance a lake reflects evening’s light.
The lovers reflect as well,
back and forth, the soul of one, then the other.
They have chosen to spend their precious day in that very
human act of remembering, something the squirrels
about them can’t do. Be it curse or be it gift,
there they are, recalling in morning’s light
the rush of infatuation, settling down, the grace of children.
And, yes, losses too.
Noon’s light gives ground to middle age, careers,
caring for their own dwindling parents.
And, yes, losses too.
Evening’s light can be morbid,
but is strangely not. The beauty of their union proves
just enough to accept the final loss that lurks.
They and the squirrels, one.

Leave a reply

twenty + eight =