The light has long since left the sky,
threads of purple in its wake.
The rising stars match Bridie's eyes.
She sits in the bay window over the rose garden
Jack had tended with raw fingertips.
Her eyes focus on the train station
at the end of Brookwood Drive,
the darkened row of houses, all like hers.

Mrs. Fahey's front door opens two houses down,
light floods her front garden.
Mr. Fahey pulls her sweater tight
around her bony shoulders to keep out the chill.
I'll see you there, Bridie whispers to herself
as they walk down the street to The Goblet.
The thick thought of Guinness and laughter exciting her anew.

With delicate fingers Bridie touches the black curls
almost afraid to rouse them from their bobby-pin prison
against her cheek, 'Kiss' curls, she says.

Silhouettes now pour from the station
like rats onto the Drive,
tall umbrellas like candy canes
held against the sides of long wool coats,
each heads away from her down the street

He must be on the next train.

She steals away from the window
places coat and felt hat at the mirror by the door.
Linen gloves fresh from the line.
Her 10-pack of John Players still in cellophane,
new book of matches,
the only contents of her tiny purse.

Back at the window she licks her finger and smoothes each brow.
Hands calm the wrinkles of her starched blouse
and shoo dust bunnies from her Brown Thomas skirt.

One lone figure down at the station finds her path,
led by the fragrance of his roses.
The last train has come and gone.
His feet shuffle up the walk,
Bridie whisks away from the window to the mirror,
bobby pins removed and curls softened before his key finds the lock.
Red 'lipper' gets a touch up as the door opens.
The scent of the rose garden precedes Jack as he opens the door,
the scent of barley and hops clings close to his lapel.
He stumbles into the kitchen.
Habit pulls him to the stove,
he sets the copper kettle to boil.

Mr. and Mrs. Fahey send their best, Bridie
Jack offers from the hollow of the kitchen.
Bridie removes the lipper with her white glove,
brushes 'kiss' curls behind her ear,
and surrenders her coat to the closet once more.