The awning matched our drinks.   Pink lemonade,
and all before us white-frilled blue, and haze
and just a hint of rain.  A trio played
first Bach then Gershwin.  In your distant gaze
I saw reflected, clouds and some blue sky.
What are you thinking came to mind, but I
kept silent, watched the gulls, and smelled the sea,
as if these moments meant forever.  That we’d be
if not this young, then still, as side by side
as pairs of soaring birds.
                                              “The Bay’s as vast
as time itself, as future, present, past
in one seascape.  Though nothing lasts,” you said.

I thought your words theoretical, stirred my drink.
Such slow blue water.  Perfect match for pink.