Third Person
One and Two.
The birds start chirping.
That look in their eyes. Contentment. Love?
The look when they admire — the look of a lover.
A drowsy trance, a glance away from a dream-like state.
As if they’re reading lullabies,
songs inscribed along the surface of their soul.
Soulmates? One and Two.
Rhythm. Melody. Harmony.
“Check, one, two.”
You look at them.
“Testing, one, two, three.”
A subtle smile.
They look content. The content.
The content of a blissful life.
A drop of sunshine — fleeting.
Then the squawking.
One, two, three.
Then they look at you.
One and Two.
“What?”
Three:
“Nothing.”