Restraint

 

You like this woman, much younger

than yourself, for her bright intelligence.

You think she feels the same about you.

When you meet an exchange of warm

greetings, where a hug seem appropriate.

She is married, her husband as close to

uxorious without being nauseating, two

very nice people. When you speak so

animatedly there is always much to discuss

usually matters pertaining to local and

world news as lively discussions ensue.

It can be a refreshing experience those

spontaneous conversations, each adding

somewhat to the information gathered by

the other. She is scrupulous with her

distinctive appearance; willowy is the

word, with an eye to style. So when she

wears a close-fitting shapely winter coat

the eye follows and the thought lingers

can she be warm enough, albeit unspoken.

You recall your annoyance when your

mother would observe of your middle-aged

figure that in her opinion you looked gaunt.

The deep vertical creases in your friend's

once smooth face mirror the pains she takes

in her diet, the cheeks drawn, eyes now

hollow, the smile as bright as ever, the

contrast unnerving. You grope for words

and swallow them, instead committing 

to commenting how 'delicate' she looks.

And when she turns her face askew to

ask whether that's a compliment, you

smile right back and say, yes, of course.