I saw the couple
all dressed to the nines.
Coy eye contact,
brush of a fingertip

Glance over the brim
of a glass of wine.
The wind moves her hair.
He reaches in his pocket 

He moves the bread plate close
She looks out the window
He has a small box
Her breathing stops

Her eyes meet his
Never left them
And he picked up the box
his knife drops.

She cries (just a little)
Not really surprised
Slides the ring
On her finger

While he spreads butter
Across a dinner roll.