Dinner And A Movie Poem by Faith Wood

The credits roll off the tip of your tongue
and so the curtain's close
The car grumbling to a start
as all time froze

At home, the shower breathes me in
as though you and I are capable
of holding conversation hand in hand
from across the kitchen table

But it's only picturesque,
the life lead by a queen
Our glasses tumble and spill
and the remnants never come clean.

We adventure around these streets
our laces stiff and never tied,
backs glued to the empty park bench,
our body language spelling 'we tried.'

And my hair, now drenched in habit
has yet to look upon the sea,
a shower so boundless
it glares unappreciatively at me.

But it's worth it all,
if only a dream in the sunset.
When you close your eyes,
I won't be the one to forget