50th Anniversary

Every year on their anniversary he would buy flowers;

A dozen begonias, her favorite.

He would book a table at the same restaurant;

Italian, small and quiet.

Year after year it was the same perfect night.

He would arrive first, flowers in hand;

"Jones table for two".

A bottle of Barolo and the chicken piccata;

Tiramisu for dessert.

Year after year they remembered.

On the 50th anniversary he arrived, flowers in hand.

"Hello Mr. Jones, table for two?"

He smiled sadly, and pulled from his satchel;

A framed portrait of his wife.

"Jones, table for one".