Tiny bubbles appear from nowhere at the bottom of the glass,

they float to the top of the liquid

and pop.

.

There is laughter and the clink of cutlery on plates

and we drink to celebrate,

however light the cause,

and I remember who would have come late,

causing laughter, and his wife to shake her head,

and I may not remember the conversation

but I know who would have brewed the coffee just right, and barbequed the chicken

and who made the salads,

who would have teasingly argued against the common view,

and who guided the conversation so we all had a share.

.

The kids would have come out to ask what we were laughing about

and all had their role and played their part

while the shadows lengthened across the lawn

and the golden liquid at the bottom of the glass reflects the pale gold of early evening sky