February

They sat plainly
with cardboard cups
that gave off wisps of steam,
boats on the wooden sea
between them.

I pretended to read
a tale told by an idiot,
as she slipped her
small and wandering pinky
over his;
just the brief glancing
of flesh.

I became suddenly
aware of our ever
approaching deaths,
that I had never witnessed
honest love until this moment.
Only written pages
remain as our shadows.