the old couple

the old couple

The evening is dark, and the street light tells
the leaves have fallen, except for two stalwarts holding on
 but they will not be there at first light.
On our walk, we stop at a dress shop she admires
a colourful dress as an African, she likes lively attire
 asks me if she still fits this dress; mull over this a bit and say
it will fit you snuggly.
She laughs fondly and tells me; I know nought about women’s clothes.
We have grown old together and dislike being apart
 it worries me when she goes into the kitchen to make our evening meal
We are both aware of the sand, in time glass is nearly empty
 for now, we are lovers in the strand of Nirvana’s echo.