The three-course meal was delicious,
the wine aged to perfection.
the dessert had just the right amount of chocolate,
and the kiss was the only way it could have ended.
Ten years later,
when both of them had forgotten the taste of love,
the lonely handkerchief,
in the bottom of the box on top of the undusted cupboard
under the pile of clothes that the kids had long outgrown,
was the only thing that remembered
the surprisingly quiet evening.