#29- Sangria.

One of those afternoons.

Sangria and tapas.

Friends and family.

Stationary cavalcade

For someone's anniversary.

Laughter and revelry.

Conversations amongst many.

Least of all

Between me

And the disappearing

Pitcher of burnt purple-red.

Liquid warmth.

Served on ice.

Kept mostly 

On my side of the table

With little protest.

Waiter and bartender,

Alone, notice 

My slight comportment.

Asked a question on the side.

Answer, one word.

Well, two.

A laugh and a smile.

Knowing grin.

Hand on shoulder.

Reassurance

In secret.

Gave me 

A little extra port

Before leaving.

Author's Note

Working on imagery.