A tragedy, in other words, of love
Two candle lit faces dance in the mesanscence of the café where
Children writhe in their seats; babies cry from their high chairs, man and wife, boy
and girl, boy and boy, hold hands across the wooden block upon which their elbows so rudely rest.
Smoke from the kiln in which crust and dust mingles into the room, burning to the brim of the invisible incense stick- its just their breath.
Savouring the sweet salty combination of their words- aromatic, acrobatic with his wit and with her judgement,
Lingering on their savoury thoughts.
A swift gesture of the hand as yellow speckled stars of parmesan
Decorate the delightful dish, made by gentle wrists as taste buds touch the terracotta plate. Her eyes envious forever of his eyes- opposite
so blue. so marinely exquisite. so true.
From that moment the incarnation was made complete,
as the hearts ribbons unravelled down towards the street. Waltzing cells searching for hotels, empty without the two, an appetite unsatisfied, oh to filled with you.