We’ll talk of food and of art

of grandchildren and part

of our lives.

A babble of anecdotes and fun

hidden behind the sun

of our lives.

She’s worried about Jon

I ask about Kate?

That’s the way with a son

It’s down to you, mate.

The cutting of the knives.

We smile down the friendship line

Then the victim appears

of our lives.

It must all end in tears

as a lonely riposte hits that spot

where fear lurks

to entrap and

waste our lives.

That’s love?