Facing,
at last,
the damage done
by careless self-indulgence,
and too little expressed concern
for things that matter,
apparently a lot,
to you,
my love,
I’ve brought you here
to the place where we first sat eye-to-eye,
and heart-to –heart,
to chart a mutual course
through
this lone and dreary world
to show my love again,
with violins and flowers;

To make you melt
before a backdrop
of the clink of lovers’ glasses brought together,
sealing dreams,
and fates,
and promises.

But it seems I can’t begin
my prepared speech
while watching
your fevered, restless fingers
crumple and choke
the linen napkin in your lap,
and your wince
when I clank my knife against
my half-empty glass
while rending
my overcooked steak
into pieces small enough to be easily
chewed,
and swallowed.

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