shadow

Unsung affection

Someone was waving across the city reflecting pool. It was an old friend surrounded on three sides by grandchildren. Did he ever think he would be married to a grandmother? No matter, they were in that state of what used to be called connubial blis which no one ever promised so long beyond the honeymoon. It was a peanut-butter-and-jelly picnic between going to church and taking a boat ride, filling a summer's day until the rest of the family came to town.

They are not unique in today's driven world, these human islands of affection; only unsung.

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