Last sip of wine

She is a women
of dubious style
we met at a cafe
chatted awhile,
Out on the deck
with our cappuccino
and later that night
with a bottle of Pinot,

The day was cloudy
trying to rain
perhaps it was Tuesday
they all seem the same,
Like telephone poles
they march along steady
one after the other
if you're not ready,

My friend told me
she was visiting town
here for the summer
hanging around,
She was writing a novel
(what a surprise)
short blonde hair
smoky grey eyes,

We met, she was wearing
Lee jeans and a jacket
a Blackberry phone
and a cigarette packet,
Said she'd been trying
to quit "like forever"
her heart wasn't in it
uncertain endeavor,

The afternoon languished
we went for a ramble
along the greenbelt
considered the gamble,
Double or nothing?
two of a kind?
both curious
what we might find,

At a park bench we stopped
a load off our feet
told stories about
people we meet,
The good, bad and ugly
the sane and the wild
things we have done
some not that mild,

Our conversation
made us both ponder
is there anything out there
some God up yonder?
Deciding our actions
our fate for the night
the purpose of life
toil or delight?

On the walk back to town
a bottle of wine
some bread and some cheese
would do just fine,
Up the back stairs
the key in the lock
just past seven
the tick of the clock,

Couple wine glasses
we set on the floor
the bread and the cheese
and a little bit more,
Rain on the roof
now a steady chant
a last sip of wine
and you know where we went ...