(A sonnet for Francesca & Paul)

The spiky heather springs beneath their feet,
scrambling to flinty crags above the trees.
Two bodies bent against the pressing breeze,
linked hearts. Detached. Still single. Incomplete.

Wondering at his thoughts she grips his hand,
sensing his race against the fading light
before the day is lost to purple night,
resolved to reach the peak as he had planned.

And while he sets his camera to record,
white cumulus observe and silent note
the pulse that clamours loudly at his throat,
her unawareness of his tumbling thought.
Uncertain that his quest will bring success,
his prize, a cherished word, her precious ‘yes’.