Your Poetry Dot Com - They Did Not Notice

Misty fields float beyond leaded glass;
a window to their world, a sitting nook
made reverent with tens of thousand's of coffee morns.
Her; eyes cracking open with the sun,
sigh and smile in her kitchen traipse.
He; scraping dreams aside in search of overalls,
sigh and smile on his weathered face.

Deer float ethereal at wood's edge.
Ensconced on tired cushions in the nook-
He; “Looks like two fawns this year.”
She; “Where? Oh, yes, I see them now,
that mist made them disappear.”
In the silence of comfortable love
they shared a communion as easy as a river's flow.
They did not notice or know what they have,
King's have slaughtered for,
women have sobbed for,
men have killed and died for.
The majesty of their love played on a
stage of faded linoleum and spider-webbed
porcelain, and they never knew they would be called poor.
He; “My heart, we're to the city today.”
She; “As if you needed to remind me!”
Smiles in eyes and a flash of teeth;
weathered home left alone,
but love was everywhere in it
even with them gone,
like the smell of apple pie lingers long after
the last fork is licked.

The walk to town was not long;
anything, with the right person can be a blessing and is not long,
so smiles and silence and comments on how green everything is
brought them to the lesser realm of sought and starved love.
A colony of the lonely in a sea of people.
But they did not notice.
Road dusted, wrinkled, with a touch of mud about
her finest dresses hem, they mixed to all
other hair and eyes and noses and girths that
swirled around them like pixie dust; all
the starched collars and lace and dainty boots
worn on bodies without light.
But they did not notice.
The finery stirred no envy in her, no jealousy in him.
With eyes only for each other, there is no room or time to want.

When the ticket master, green arm band bright on a crisp white shirt
(earned, this special badge, by giving a life to punctuality)
saw this couple of musty dress and crusty trim,
he stood a little taller to look down a little farther
on these bumpkins from who knows where.
Ticket-master; “In from the farm?”
A tone of snide pride and snickered disdain, sprinkled from
the empty heart of a hollow man.
He; “We're off to the city today!” A smile as wide as honesty.
She; “We've never been, you see.” A smile of pure sharing.

Exchange of hard earned dollars
for two pieces of paper with the right words on them;
concluded with a crinkle of the ticket-master's nose
and a rude turn to a more well dressed couple.

He; “That feller sure was nice.”
She; “He certainly was, honey.”

Love kept them strong and blind to meanness.
They did not notice.

This poem is Copyright ยฉ Invierno