The lover waits at the table,
waits, waiting, wanting,
looking at a watch taken
off so each second will not
be missed as it ticks on
the white cloth still clean,
unspoilt by the event to come,

The light turns to dark as the
lover waits with nothing but a
glass and on drop of moisture
on the lover’s lips, nothing left
from before as the lover waits,
shuffling thoughts and dismissing
doubts about what might be.

The door creaks.
Eyes search.
The flash of recognition.

The lovers stand together at the
table, eyes-to-eyes, with silence and
hesitant half-smiles, hand-to-hand,
lips touch, and dark turns to light
as they sit, not letting go as a tear
forms in smiles, dropping to the
well-set table and staining the white.