All those sad years may not have been wasted.
Their first feast was best they’d ever tasted
(a perfect meal at home, he’d brought the wine).
The kindly candles softened every line.
How their lives had sought the same direction!
How they had matured for such affection!
The candlelight drew shadows on the wall.
Their shadows merged and then grew very small.
There was still time for a happy ending,
for long evenings, when she did the mending.
There would be endless time for happy talk,
and for a gentle, rustling country walk.
... Then, at midnight, they politely parted
fearful of their trust before it started,
with time to seek fresh strangers for a date
in candlelight, before it was too late.
If you have any comments on this poem, Thomas Land would be
pleased to hear from you.