The couple sat athwart on the bench,
each looking in a different direction,
as if anticipating or holding back
the sudden rush of a departing train.
The woman\'s eyes followed a pigeon
skittering along cracked pavement, dusty
wings whirling up small eddies
of forgotten ticket stubs and crumbs.
The man stared into a cluttered horizon
painted with telephone wires
and a forgotten church spire, half-lost
amid the climbing concrete of what’s next.
Their hands lay close, almost touching,
yet anchored by the unseen burden
of unexplored grievances or unvoiced,
perhaps dusty concessions to time’s passing.
A child with a candy-striped balloon
passed between them, a transient thread,
joining and then unjoining the lives
briefly stitched in red and white silk.
If I could stand behind their still figures,
I might see the past and future folded
gently, like a neglected map spread
neatly on the seat between them.