The Tryst

On their first meeting she kept stopping
to point out churches. At the time

he couldn’t understand why.
He tried to laugh, make small talk,

‘win the day’,  but instead she sat still
as death, her eyes glued to a lone steeple.

The lunch, of course, didn’t make
it any easier. Though the food was fine

enough. It was what you’d call
a ‘mis-match’ and neither knew whether

to leave or stay. There was just that
enveloping silence, and when the waitress

finally arrived and tipped their coffee
down their laps,  it was ‘most definitely over’.

Mark Pirie

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