Patina of Love

 Gray of hair, a little stooped,
rain or shine, cold or hot the day,
the couple from the corner house
walk hand in hand down the road
where the cluster of mailboxes stand
like neighborhood sentries.

On their return, as they pass by my window,
I know if their mailbox rewarded them,
for if it did, their arms are interlocked,
smiling eyes looking into smiling eyes,
and she is clutching an envelope
as if it were a precious artifact.

On Sundays, when the sentries stand empty,
if the weather is clement, they walk to the lake
and are seen sitting, staring out at the water,
and one has to wonder at their story.
Then, you see them walking home again
hand in hand, smiling, and you know.

© Marcia Miller-Twiford