Her blue jean leg is resting over his knee

Her ankles bare

Scuffed tennis shoes

His chequered beanie North Facw padded jacket

Baggy pants

Suggest a snowboarder Far from the slopes

And the longed for mountain air –

A gentle soul.

Both their fingers are full of rings of silver skulls,

They are 20ish on the Oxford to London express.

They are entwined

And separately spellbound,

Clutching their screens.

Once in a while,

She will point at her screen

He leans over and together they smile.

I think about their journey,

Their journey with screens

I am old now and I try not to judge their silent journey,

I wonder how they will navigate

The moguls, the crevasses of life

And the necessary brave and difficult conversations of the heart.

I had no screen

And still the moguls get me every time.