I first saw them together, him

in pain, her

concerned, a worried frown

etched deeply on her young face

and surrounded by

the faint whisper of hospital gowns

and nurse’s pulses quicken

as they take the temperature

of the mis-morning managed

roll call.

It was hardly the dreams

of Romeo and the girl on the balcony,

it was nothing like Taylor

and Burton, but

what love is wrapped in such gilded prose,

it is what it is,

I thought with a smile,

two holding hands,

him sheepish, stupid, the ripped T shirt

and the story of how he was sad,

her, more pleasant, more demonstrating

of love that he knew he deserved;

pulling back the ghost of privacy

across them,

I wished them all the luck

in the world.

 

Ian D. Hall 2017