An evening in London.
The sun is setting,
the sky inflamed with streaks of glowing orange.
On a bench by the Eye, he takes a seat.
For a while he sits quietly,
watching the tourists as they flock to buy their tickets,
hoping to catch a glimpse of the sunset.
Most look stressed, anxious.
He smiles to himself,
content with his decision,
to remain on the ground and observe.
After a minute,
he closes his eyes,
raises his head toward the Heavens.
When he opens his eyelids,
he finds
the sky has changed.
The orange streaks are gone, faded into a blackened haze.
The city’s lights grow brighter,
the streets begin to glow.
Tired of sitting, he pulls himself up,
walks toward the bridge.
Steps onto it.
Halfway across,
he stops,
looks down at the water below,
painted bright with the reflection of boats.
One of these he recognizes.
Yes, he remembers it well.
He brought Her here as a present,
a birthday present.
How long ago was it?
Has it only been eight years?
It feels much more than that.
He folds his arms,
leans over,
closes his eyes,
and remembers.
The excitement.
As he guided Her,
blindfolded,
onto the little ship.
Where are we going?
You’ll see.
Really, where are you taking me?
He laughs.
Grasps Her arm,
leads Her onto the platform,
smiling at the captain.
Who smiles back.
Now may I look?
Yes, he says.
Eyes full of laughter.
Elegantly,
she removes the cloth,
and gasps.
Eyes wide and dancing.
What is all this?
He doesn’t respond,
simply smiles and leads Her forward.
They take their seat on the main deck.
Where she realizes it’s only them.
She begins to protest—
it’s too much.
But he assures Her,
it’s not.
For the first few minutes, she’s hesitant.
But after a while,
the hesitancy takes its leave,
replaced instead by happiness.
A happiness,
which spreads,
from heart to head,
to eyes and limbs,
until it fully envelops Her being.
The evening passes,
rushing past,
faster than either one would like.
It’s almost midnight,
when he takes Her hand.
I can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow,
she says,
trying to mask any hint
of ungratefulness,
or sorrow.
But failing.
He knows she wants to stay.
He knew it all along.
So,
without releasing his grip,
he takes his other hand,
slips it into his suit pocket,
and pulls out a little envelope.
He smiles,
cheekily.
And outstretches it to Her.
What are you up to?
she says teasingly,
as she takes it from his hand.
Before she opens the seal,
she looks straight into his eyes,
seeking to find some sort of hint,
as to the package’s contents.
Much to Her dismay,
she finds nothing.
Having no other choice,
but to open the envelope,
she does so.
Carefully,
Curiously,
Cautiously.
With a tiny hand,
she removes a card,
turns it over,
and reads the note.
Paris!
she exclaims
she has never been before.
He smiles.
She springs from Her seat,
capriciously,
throws Her arms about him,
like a child.
He takes Her gently,
in his arms,
and kisses Her,
embraces Her.
Tenderly,
passionately.
All of a sudden,
he awakes.
He checks his watch.
he should be returning.
After all he has a flight to catch.
He smiles,
knowing in the morning,
his darling will be waiting,
with open arms,
at their home in
Paris,
France.