7:02 pm.

In a quiet corner of the kitchen

The shrill whistle of the tea kettle

Echoes off each lonely surface,

With no one coming to tend to it.

Two mugs,

Two tea bags,

Sitting patiently,

Waiting to be remembered.

In the next room,

Under the soft orange glow

Of this vintage lamp

It is only me and you,

Fingers interlaced, 

Hearts at rest,

Dancing together in our dreams.