Two old women

Here by the beach, two women

eat fish tacos 

at the next table

as the sun sets 

& the breeze plays with their hair.

 

They must be 85 but still dining out, 

still smiling, sipping. 

Whatever has aggrieved them, 

whatever has left 

their hearts blind or broken

has not destroyed them.  

 

Here they are, saying little

but feeling this earth just

enough to fill ne more page 

in their diary,

enough to knit one more poem 

with a morning latte, 

about how a stranger smiled at them

as they watched the sun

turn the sky blood-red and 

slide behind them.