You don’t know this. Tonight we watched this film
together. Smiled softly to its gentle
tone. Laughed till we cried at eccentric whims
of loving souls. Cried till we laughed, able
to caress Scottish brogues and honesty’s
showering scenes with color and light to
challenge aurora borealis’s
ballet. Lying on my flowered couch, you
turned to watch me watch you until I rose
to join you. We sighed at neighbors strolling
the beach, moaned our oh no with the hero’s
leaving. Sat in silence, credits rolling.
We held one another like lovers do.
You don’t know this. But, then, maybe you do.
Roger Armbrust
November 9, 2010
