The Children Under the Tree

I remember them that night,
Under the tree, two drops in the darkness,
Like fruit, slowly ripening,
Her finger travelling the furrows of his palm,
Uncovering a fate, sadness sweeping over her.

He heard her cry, and not knowing,
Lit a match, asked her why,
His child’s eyes wild with concern
As he reached out to cover the rupture,
Scared at the sudden devastation of his world.

I remember how the flame, flickering,
Lent a strange fiction to their faces,
So that, for a moment, she smiled,
And he was strong,
Before it was dark again.