A Parliament Of Owls Deliberating Upon The Delicate Seriousness Of Your Slender Walk

It is ridiculous and preposterous
just how far we will in fact go
to avoid a futile confrontation
with a loved one.
Over the flotsam and jetsam
accumulating, slowly yet surely,
like crow’s feet and worry-wrinkles,
towards the branching road
that leads to parting ways.
He’s not walked home this way before,
and she’s never stayed out that late.
When ‘Meaning’ crumbles
beneath your feet
and you rue entering the starting gate
as you approach a nonsensical
yet obvious finishing line.
The moon yawns its gaze away
as you stumble and relent,
to climb back upon that merry-go-round,
for one more desperate goodbye kiss.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer, who’s currently up to his elbows in Magic, and long may it remain this way. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.