Ennui

There's a quiet civility in aging.
I'm not sure if it's a lack of passion,
an abundance of passivity
or could it be ennui?
I miss passion; the noise of it,
the feel of it.
Just for a moment,
a flash in your eyes,
a flutter of tension in your grip.
Is passion the same as drive?
Does one need one to have the other?
Do I need it any less?
The afternoon light fades.
Blinds are drawn,
the cats curl and yawn,
the river freezes.
"Tea?"