Poetry by Jeff Green


Another Anniversary

by cricketjeff on January 31, 2012.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

She was late that April evening but he knew that she’d be there,
When the golden start of sunset could add drama to her hair.
Never one to miss an entrance, she had held his breathless gaze
In a restaurant in Paris on that greatest of all days.

First a waiter took their orders, with an air of bored disdain,
They were left to talk of nothing and the journey there by train;
What they ate is long forgotten with the wine that washed it down
But they knew their meal was better than the finest in the town.

When they left, a mite past midnight he’d become a mighty king,
Crowned with all the love she showed him when she took that tiny ring
And he never lost that moment, never felt a minute’s doubt,
He was filled with love forever from a spring that can’t run out.

They returned two short years later, for the perfect honeymoon
With the same disdainful waiter on a sunny afternoon.
After ten years, after twenty, Paris called and they replied
In a city made for lovers they were swimming with the tide.

Was it thirty years or forty when the waiter raised a smile?
Then a special golden wedding with the table decked in style —
He still watched her every movement, still a love-struck teenage boy,
In the presence of the present he was certain to enjoy.

There are diamonds on the table in another tiny ring,
Bought to light a bright explosion, and to make his angel sing,
But he cannot smile to greet her, long-laid plans are overthrown
At a table set for two she sits alone.

Author notes

Inspired by this image by Stephen Bergstrom