The Silver Fish

Our V.I.P. moments
have faded this gentle morning.
Tagged and released
as cellophane fish,
they go adrift 
looking for new homes
in other parts of town.

We’ve been reaching 
for the warmth
of last year’s cabernet,
spilt our ruby red secrets
into sympathetic ears,
yet feigned disinterest
to gaze into their eyes.

Do you remember?
Yes, but you’ve grown

colder. Even though your arms linger,
remembering to touch,
but unable to clasp
the fish as they flee
southwards -
the final joys of our years.
The sun is a glass marble
In our sky.

I have become silent in your head,
even though you still call me
your ‘pretty girl’.
If only, I knew 
where your mind was,
and why we’re so bereft.

No one can help us now.
We have lost our lush life.