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They sit on the curb
Their Volvo nearby
Drinkin' Dunkin' Donuts
And talking
Gestures indicating
A private language
And time-tested intimacy.
Both are silver-haired
Tanned, sportily attired
Oblivious to all
But Each Other
And their steaming cups.
Her face is soft and open,
Eyes shining
As she looks at him.
His hand is on her knee,
Casually caressing.
Clearly
Years have layered and melted
Between them.
These two are what people mean when they say
Together.
My heart aches watching them,
Heavy with that most poignant
And persistent wish
That never seems to lose its' momentum;
The deep longing to fold someone's' tee-shirts and socks
And feel my heart fill when
He calls my name.
It is almost laughable,
All the years I fought to have
My Own Identity,
Never being able to see
The truest definition of self
Is written through love.
I am growing old
So very alone.
Despite all my declarations
I yearn for a hand to hold
In these waning years
And it is a sad surprise.
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