Lunch

 

Lunch.  I like lunch.

Ladies meet for lunch.  Littles giggle at lunchtime.  Lovers woo over lunch.

Lunch can be late, usually doesn't last long, and is rarely lavish.

Lunch is a time for both lament and laughter.  Ones linger in its list and land in its light.

He invited me to lunch sometimes.  Often on a holiday, like Memorial day, when we leisured together over burgers and lemonade.  We listened and learned more about each other.   Until it was time to leave, or at least until a lull.  Lunch let us lean in and lay in.  Lunch lended us like-minded life.  

I like lunch.  Still.  Especially lunch and its leftovers.  Leftover lettuces and delectables.  Leftover light-hearts.  Leftover lingerings and longings of Bill -- my lunchable.