At a table set for two,
in a quiet corner,
they sit across;
an emotional sun
sets acrimoniously
behind them.
She goes on munching
something in silence,
never once lifting her face,
to make the picture perfect.
He sits there, like dumbstruck
not a single moment
taking eyes off her pretty face,
as if, she'd vanish if he does.
Entwined in a
mutually absorbing deliquescence?
Or each one beyond
the reach of other's mind?
Over a cup of coffee
going too cold, to drink now
an intrusive character
idling on the table next
staring alternatively at both
inanely wonder:
"The beginning or the end?"
