the deep cushions

I remember
the deck. white with
new stain.
the falling leaves,
the fire
and deep cushions.
I remember
the music
from the window. how
the sky
went blue to dark,
full
of stars.
the drinks refilled,
the plates
put away.
how the night wore on
without words.
hand in hand.
there was little to be said.
being in the moment
was enough.