Thirty years later, drunk on red wine, they will return
to wander the halls, searching for a certain
 
room, its window still memorized – will delight
in finding through familiar panes the moon rising
 
just the way it had when they'd lain sleepless
beneath it. But they cannot return to the twin bed,
 
long assigned, reassigned to some other
possibility sick for home, another
 
disappointment – the room itself practicing
what they will have come to prove cannot be finished.