The Time She Did Not Dine Alone

She burned and tingled
within a glow,
which burst alive
and vibrated richly
out from the very
depth of her being.
Making the holding of cutlery
a clumsy affair,
causing spontaneous
child-like giggles
from both sides
of the Magical table.
Eyes wide and brimming
with the fuzzy warmth
of containable, happy tears,
cheeks of pink, raging fire.
And she spoke
a musical flurry of words
in a voice
she hardly believed
or recognized.
Sharing the ‘Centre Of Attention’
Spotlight, enthusiastically…
their emotions swayed
to both a rhythm and pulse
in its beautiful simplicity.

Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world. He yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight; this too may pass, yet. Buy his books Scribblings Of A Madman (Lit Fest Press); Poetry From The Nearest Barstool; and a split poetry book The Raven And The Vagabond Heart with Bethany W Pope. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.