"Snapshot: Grayscale" © Renn Ireigh/3bays Designs 2008.
Fade in to girl and boy, through streaky glass.
It's quiet, save the wipers' bump and whine
and the periodic car that rushes past,
the silence seeming almost by design.
But her eyes flicker once, twice off the road
and his are fastened firmly straight ahead.
She sighs because this does not well bode
for the time they are to spend tonight in bed.
She wishes she could muster up the nerve
to reach a hand across to meet his own.
They've been so close; there shouldn't be reserve.
The quiet, left to moulder, grows and grows.
Her hand stays on the steering wheel, although
they'd loved and lusted three sonnets ago.