in detail

I remember
other things. the smaller
things.
things said,
or left unsaid.
the bread
gone stale on the table,
the open
wine, left
warm.
I remember you staring
off into
the distance.
somehow without me,
despite
me being across the table.
a portent
of things to come.
I remember,
the waiter, how unhappy
he seemed.
distracted by his own
life perhaps,
giving me your plate,
mine to you.
how long it took to go
once done.
I remember how easy the sun
slipped between the changing
colors of trees
near the fountain,
thinking how
quickly the seasons arrive
then leave.