Left Inside Alone

I watch them as they enter, his
Knuckles white as he grips the
Handles of her wheelchair. In this
I glimpse their long history:

Years spent holding hands, chaste kisses
By the beach, children raised with
Love. I wonder if he misses
The long gone life they used to live.

They’d stay up late, talk through the night
Of their fantasies and fears
Till sun came up to shine its light
On their slowly drying tears.

Perhaps they argued, now and then,
Over who’d feed baby in
Dead of night, or who’d check again
Some silly, boring, trifling thing.

But that’s just the story for me and you;
He sits and feeds her tiramisu.


Any guesses for el title? The winner gets a coffee from Caffè Nero!