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.


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