Trace

Did they fall in love?

Their siblings,

friends,

Exchanging furtive glances

Amid the din of conversation

At social gatherings.

Was it the push of time;

Calling for their own independence?

Their parents encouraged the union;

Not love but the pull of convention.

Standing on the bay,

Newly married.

The harvest in, and the geese on their yearly journey.

He promised to build them

A house where they stood.

His hand weaving their future in the air.

Ring gleaming with their vows.

Their bodies still a mystery to be discovered.

A farm, an orchard, and eight children that will live.

A long happy life together.

In the space of two centuries

The ceaseless waves will wash their trace away.