'Your talks are ... well...don't know!'

'Your talks are...'
She started thus
Once
Looking straight at him
One cloudy breezy cool morn...

a few moments earlier
They both walked a green land
And
They feeling tired
Planning a rest
Sat
On a bench
In a park...

he was looking at the sky...
The trees...
The birds flying like little kites...

And she was thinking
Absent
Being present just by
his side
On the same wooden bench
With a green paint- a bit worn...

'Well...
Your talks are ...dis organised...'
She finally stated...
As if that was a very big hurdle
She had to overcome...
Saying
Stating
A fact...

he was listening...
Perhaps...
Perhaps not...
Perhaps looking at that eagle
he sought
Something...
A fantastic flight?

'But...
Your talks are good...'
She added
A  rejoinder...
A mind...

he still looked around
As if he was not interested...
She heaved sigh...
A long deep one...
Pathos ridden?
Perhaps...

And he took up from the ground
A triangular stone small...
Smooth surfaced...
Much like the one
Once an architect
Left for him ...
In a stormy rainy thundering day
Of a night...

She
Knowing
Said nothing
Not even being curious...
She smiled...
'Your talks are good...nonetheless...but that I don't really know...'
Saying such
She slowly stood up...
he followed suit...