Sitting, corner table, 
alive with intermittent laughter and 
subdued whispers, two 
rallied bravado to 
mask fear of inevitable 
parting, 
while the night sky 
cried. 

Caressing his cheek, stroking her hand,
gazing those few moments while
protests for future times
pulsed arcade game like.
Stay.
Stay a while
as the night sky
cries.

Bound by duty, he.
Bolstered self restraint, she.
Convincing themselves, their courses set, both
clinging, vine like,
sitting, those final few moments, silent,
willing, but unable to willingly
deviate, abandon into tempting opportunity.
Strolling regretfully, resignedly away
while the night
cried a sky.

1998 Ray Ostrander