Tomorrow's Dialogue

There we sit, unfolding
on the cusp of greatness.
Sat as though lilacs,
glistening with the dew
of yesterday's showers.

Your eyes gleam under
the sunlight, gentle
reflections dance.
Iris and her pupil make
a lovely couple.

Your hair is like strands
of Gold, here devoid of
colour but still retaining
their lustre, soft and gentle
in the winds of change.

In the distance a truck pulls
away. You take a sip of
coffee; exhaling the ghosts
of yesterday's thoughts and
tomorrow's dialogue.

For this conversation merely
skirts around the issues;
that familiar tet-a-tet, the
prelude before the deluge,
a neccessary introduction.

For now we cannot say
what we desire, "saving it
for next time" we retire - A
painful adieu, if only I could
spend more time with you!