Serendipity sat across the table,
glass of wine in hand.
Time sat across from her
and raised his glass to her.
She had done good work.
She had brought strangers together, turned friends into family,
all as if she were weaving on the loom of her cousin Fate.
She watched as they danced, laughed, and sang,
and sand-kissed cheeks and tans
ruled the day,
while men marched with avocados and pink purses, with liquor
flowing till cups ran over.
She watched them at dinner,
curiosity piqued by their conversations
and she was forced to laugh
as allies turned enemies
divided by the party lines and lies of Secret Hitler.
It warmed her heart to watch them slowly retreat to the warm embrace of slumber,
exhausted by the day’s adventures.
Serendipity smiled with content,
and poured herself
another glass of wine.
