It had been a long night. Their eyes draining into the middle distance. Not a word between them, just a red stroller.
Meditation over eggs and bacon. Savory relief. A warm embrace after an endless night of quiet cooing and slow lateral swings. Now. Finally. Amongst the electro-jazz soundtrack and the spillage at table five, the bundle rests easy.
He is proud. Well kept. A clean beard with maybe a days growth blurring the edges. Holding it all steady. No panic, not on the surface anyway.
She is proud. Wearing velcro runners that sparkle. Nervous but determined to get it right. Confident. Excited for the years ahead and the November birthday parties.
It is their first. The latest in a long list of firsts which started around a table much like this one. A romance rather than a child growing between them. Neither imagining the other would even call back, let alone remember to get bread, milk and Sudocrem on the way home.
They are proud, of all that and getting this far.
They get the bill and stroll out, all three of them.
Dear David
I am so impressed with your poetry and writing. I'm enjoying relaxing and reading them.
Your cousin Elaine x