The clock strikes seven, daylight’s slipping away
The TV’s been turned down, the dishes washed up
It’s time for that nightly ritual
Another record set on the turntable.
Uncork the wine, light those scented candles,
Unlatch the back door, step out into the salty air
Welcome the creeping chill, sink my toes into the sand,
Settle into one half of these beach chairs that are angled toward each other.
My mind wanders yet again, back to that fateful moment
When you’d asked me to take a leap of faith —what a steep cliff it had been.
I’d backtracked several steps;
Your request had been unfathomable.
What if?
There’d be a clash of decor, sharing of toothpaste,
Twice the shopping lists, half the closet space
I’d wake up to your snores each night
Welcomed the cup of tea each morning.
We’d bake together, argue over red or white,
You’d read to me, I’d insist on a roaring fire,
Later enjoy the ocean spray, the horizon melting away
Settled in each half of these beach chairs that are angled toward each other.
ThePurpleFenix 