Poetry - Lynn White

Sweet Sangria

Between the sips of

white wine sangria and

a broken stream

of words

and smiling touches,

she began afresh.

“It’s not that I’m not tempted,”

she said

“and I don’t want to offend you.”

She took my hand briefly,

to show no offense

was intended,

then let it go.

I held on to hers

as she explained.

Then we walked in silence

for quite a long way

enveloped in the dark night.

Hand in hand.

Quiet footsteps

that didn’t break the silence.

She looked up at me and smiled.

I smiled back.

Or was I the first to smile

and she smiled back?

I don’t remember.

It doesn’t matter,

but we still don’t remember

as we smile afresh

sipping our white wine.