what's meant to be

it's normal the curiosity

we have

for one another, when becoming

friends,

or beyond that,

lovers.

we ask, how did you get here

from there?

do you tell

them about the woman,

at forty three,

the girlfriend

who died

in her sleep

upstairs, how you bought

her house

and that now 

you have lived in it

for nearly twenty years?

or do you leave that part out?

and instead offer them

a view of the woods

out the window,

the trees, the blue sleeve

of stream that puts you

to sleep at night. 

do you tell them 

that it was meant to be

somehow?