Caress, his wrinkled finger along the lobe of her ear
earrings dangling, lingering silver.
Silvered moon, crescent and virtually extinct
extinction of her perfume as they dance
dancing, my mother in the lead.
Leading father, his fingers round the fabric, feel its texture at her waist
wasted. Wasted at the thought of her
her hair which parted, bridge a space on her furrowed forehead
forehead to kiss.
Kiss her again
against a pretence of obligation.
Obliged to love her and be
be her lover, though his love for her not the same.
this poem what i perceive are the two stages of marital love – initial lust and aged comfort. the transition of when the initial half of the poem leaks into the latter is blurry, as are the boundaries of when lust ages to comfort.