on that bench. We waited,
until the light faded away
and we knew that the day was ending.
He didn't speak, and
I could think of nothing more to say.
So we sat in silence; and for a time,
I could still feel the warmth
emanating from the spot
where his hand had rested
next to mine,
before he pulled away.
I didn't want to look at him,
or see the unquestionable hurt in his eyes.
I knew that it was my fault,
that all the yearning, curiosity and excitement in them
had disappeared.
But I did glance over,
just once,
when the sun was flickering
behind the trees
across the water.
He was staring out in front, still as anything;
and for the first time since we'd met
I couldn't even guess what was
running through his mind.
His eyes were guarded and distant,
and I realised then that
it was too late;
we'd never be close again.
It was a quiet place;
far enough from the chaos
of everyone's to-ing and fro-ing
for us not to hear it.
And it was getting to that time of day
when even the stragglers agreed
it was a good idea to go home.
So we had that space to ourselves.
And it should have been peaceful;
but when the sun finally sank below the horizon,
I couldn't help but feel it took a part of us with it.
I'm sure that if anyone passed us at all
they'd have thought we were simply
strangers by the river,
sharing the twilight.
And in a way, we were.
