Love, Dreams and Paris I.P.

She sits and knits
A cardigan
And dreams of Paris

Looking out of the window
Into the field of fresh mown hay

She watches him
He stands, stretching

Looking skyward,
Hands massaging
His lower back.

One of the young men
Look to him,
His lips moving,
While shaping a smile.

The retort is made,
He will raise his left eyebrow
As he does so!
It will be droll,
Without rancour; funny!

The other boy, or is it man?
Yes! Man now, she thinks;
Walks to him,
Puts a hand on his shoulder.
Banter; unanimous laughter,
Unanimous love!

Forty years!
Was it really forty?

They had held hands in Paris,
Her new ring
As conspicuous
As the Eiffel Tower,
On the landscape of her finger

He had kissed her in public!
She knew then,
How much he loved her;
This shy, quiet man;
This beautiful human being
That she adored.

She would love to knit
I LOVE YOU!
But smiles at the thought

He would raise
His left eyebrow
And drolly state;
“Sure, don’t I know that!”

So she just sits and knits
Smiling, watching him;
And dreams of Paris!