Lady in a Chinese Restaurant

She catches my eye – this dark-eyed lady
at the table in the window; wouldn’t call her
pretty, but a certain presence pervades.
She wears a bronzed, ethnic necklace,
simple jeans, and a T shirt; even still –
a sartorial elegance.

The man with her – her partner, I assume,
handsome...for his age – perhaps a touch
more youthful than she. The young folk
in the gathering appear to be their children;
the smaller ones, maybe their grandkids.

Her smile, charming, charismatic –
she has that knack of being everything
to everyone...regardless of maturity;
not presumptuous or condoning,
just the gift of the gab.

She eats enthusiastically – shows a penchant
for red wine – enjoys her drink, gets ever so
slightly tipsy. At ease with her years, sixty
to sixty-five, maybe; hard to tell with people
like that who grow older but never age.
Says she’ll pay the bill, in full knowledge
nobody will let her...

Makes her way to the exit like a woman
not asking for respect but knowing
she commands it. Her little grandson
wheels her to the door; she smiles
as he pretends to pant; tells him,

‘Thank you. Well done, my man!’
The look on her face, and his, says it all,
and I envy her... this dark-eyed lady,
and the peace she’s made with the world.