and every father would be twice as hard
for she's the one who wants to fill the void
and he would rather work out in the yard
the bedroom's dead and they have had a vigil
with floss and pads and unburnt candles old
the romance that they had was not official
and when the wedding came, it lost it's hold
the silverware and china stacked in boxes
the top of wedding's cake was never cut
still frozen in the back, the paradox is
they always knew the why but not the what
and now, with children grown, away and lonely
she walks by neighbors, gyms and yoga class
yet he still works out in the garden, only
with his attention's on Bermuda grass
The young instructor in the yoga window
without a shirt without a care, he smiles
the laps she walks to get sight of this glow
the hopeful shine of youth, she'd walk for miles
on corresponding couches, they recline
so silent for so many years, they've stayed
in virtue and in pain, their soft decline
a whimper of the love they never made
a life of love not lost but just deferred
not friends to the unfaithful or to sin
No begging, pleading, yelling, not a word
each waits for other's death, so they can win.
