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.