Just Enough

They cling on to bits

of remembering.

She needed help ordering.

He was reminded to pay.

They remembered just enough.

Senior coffee and a burger

as they sat ignoring everything

but each other.

The decades teach the wandering.

They remembered just enough.

Sitting with cold coffee

and hands pancaked one on top

of another and another.

Blood pulsing through age spots.

They remembered just enough.

Hair, gray as clouds,

and eyes  surrounded  by

folds and ridgelines

connected as they spoke softly.

They remembered just enough.

My sister stood by the register

and I stood by her invitation

into a moment of love

so retreated from the fray.

We pray to remember just enough.