She Always Did That...

Fondled her mug of tea
like she was cupping
a bird in her hands;
Hollywood Pink –
her nails today.

She had such nice hands,
but such crap taste
in nail polish.

Now, she was tracing
the rim – round
and around her finger
went. Her eyes were red;
her mascara, smudged.

The rain, he suspected,
but he never asked.
She was glad.

She was always like this
after visiting her dad.

His mind was elsewhere;
about to pop the question
after five long years
engaged.

The words
on the tip of his tongue...
about to take
the plunge...

Then, he notices
her finger. Round
and around the rim
it goes, but this time
in the opposite direction.

She asks him
what he was about to say.

“Nothing,” he tells her...
“Except – how’s the old man?”

She always did that;
spoke with her hands.