Neoromantics

Two walk to their old bench within the park
To take the pleasure of its Sunday view
And hear the children playing with the lark
Ascending high within a fan of blue.
These sounds delight them and awake their hearts,
Reopens them to life anew again,
And ecstasies, piped in such varied parts,
Pull, rip, exalt, replenish and sustain.
The people strolling by this private dawn
Do not reflect upon their presence there;
They’ve been to church; they look, and then they yawn –
As they move on, their minds don’t linger here.
But if they think, they think the two are quaint,
And not romantics fully sans restraint.