by cricketjeff on January 31, 2012. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
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.
Inspired by this image by Stephen Bergstrom