Small Talk

we still hold hands

sitting out in the sun,

a glass of your

favourite Verdicchio

to hand, under the old

parasol that, like us,

has seen a few too

many summers,

yet again we have

them over, all four,

in our heads as if

reviewing our troops,

to satisfy ourselves

that we did it right,

we talk about how

different they all are

and how similar too,

the spouses they each

ended up with and if

we could have guessed,

we muse over how we’d

like to see them more often

wondering a little sadly

if our own parents had felt

just the same when we were

that beautiful age

Published by grahamrsherwood