Breathing in the fresh evening air
I wander along
Conscious of birdsong.
The birds sing without a care
And soon I will be there
With her.

I dare
Say there
Will be a conversation
Over our meal.
What do I feel?
Anticipation
At the thought of what I know will come?

The birds Continue to trill.
The evening will
Run
Away in laughter
And drink.
I think
On The dull thrill
Of what comes after
A passing triumph, lost in a disaster.