An evening.

They loved theatre,
And went for many too.
The thrill, and yet the reality,
All spun together with glue.

They laughed at the humour,
And sometimes cried too.
They enjoyed it every bit,
The merry, the slow, and now and then as intensity grew.

For the drama wasn’t all that was lovely,
There always also followed a handsome discussion and tea.
Then strolling around a bit,
There were many a exchange of their own stories.

Though some evenings were planned,
The uncertain ones better chilled her spine.
For there was some unsaid sparkle around those,
Just like a scene from a drama, newer stories around an old bottle of WINE.