At a table for two
There sits only one.
Two plates and two chairs,
But only one sitting there.

In one hand a novel
In the other some wine.
She sits silently there
Watching the patrons pass by,
Not a one saying "Hi."

Each night She'll return,
The same dish she will eat
With two glasses of wine.
Alone she arrives
And alone she departs.
Never swaying in routine.

At a table for two
There sits only one.
Two plates and two chairs,
But only one sitting there.

In one hand a pen, poised over a page.
In the other some wine.
He sits silently there
Watching the patrons pass by
Never one saying "Hi."

Each night he returns
To order the same plate
With two glasses of wine.
Alone he arrives
And alone he departs.
Never swaying from routine.

As one they leave
Through different doors.
Down the same street
They walk known paths.
To a building they both know.

One looking down,
One looking back
They collide,
Their eyes meet and do not move.
Two hearts do beat,
One with the other.

At a table for two
Now two sit.
Two plates and two chairs
Now two sitting there
With two glasses of wine.