Newbiggin by the Sea Creative Writing Group

They have every right to dance with each other:
night is just beginning; daylight dimming.
Catching sight of them turning, whirling around
I find myself mesmerised. Cannot prise my eyes
away from such a display of devotion.
Because at breakfast that morning they caused
a commotion! The old goats argued about the
toast; the last slice and who should have it.
He grabbed it, dropped it on the floor. She tried
to swing through a closed door; bloodied her nose;
knocked herself out. He shouted; pandemonium broke out.
Medics called, free for all (who had paid their insurance.)

But now they dance to the tune of longevity
and I smile at my surprise.