Tipping Point

At the rooftop restaurant
overlooking London on the
honeymoon come 20 years too late,
my mother longed for the window seat.

It was the last of my father’s offerings:
the new house on the one-acre lot,
the blue car with a big red bow,
the Ethan Allen living room suite.

He could do no more to please her there,
at the all-expenses-paid last resort,
than in the beginning when her expectations
cast long shadows down the aisle.

A love can only take so much,
hide the wince of disappointment so long,
before it gathers lines that won’t erase,
turns to scan a distant skyline.

Words ©2016, Jen Payne. Image: Couple with Red, Nathan Oliveira.

4 thoughts on “Tipping Point

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