She whispers something to him, my name uttered under guarded breath,
He disappears then returns with pills in his hand that  i ought to swallow,
I oblige.
We spend an evening together with floating minds,
And busy hands.
I brought round two types of cheese for us,
She had a third
So we made scones,
Triple cheese scones,
And discussed the state of our lives.
In the lounge lyric-less music spills out from a speaker,
And they sit around adsorbed by the melodies.
He stands and goes to the *****,
One they found for fifty bucks in a second hand store.
He presses a key and listens to it joining the notes already airborne.
Another stands and joins him.
They play along with the music,
Making it up as they go,
The third bangs his hands on the table, a make do drum set.
We remember our baking in time,
And it is not burnt when we take it from the oven.
The boys leave their music and join us in eating.