Stepping Across Your Threshold

I smack the nervousness sideways
by rhythmically, Gypsy-knocking
my knuckles upon the polished wood.
The door swings wide open,
with the force of a thunderbolt,
and I am punched in the senses
by far too many homely smells,
sights, feelings, and intoxicating vibrations
to be able to respond properly
to your welcoming, tattooed arms
with anything but a naughty, schoolboy smile.
A fraction of a second to take it all in,
before we are neck to neck embracing,
and your friendly, musical “Awwww”
erupts from the flower garden
of your warm-as-toast, and good-as-gold heart.
Then, by the hand, you almost drag me
with a “Come In, You’re Late, You Wastrel!”
And here we are now, a couple of hours later,
sat by your dancing, little fireside…
and the world has revived from flatlined once more.
The energy coming off you is like
wing-beating dragons setting light to the horizon…
as I make stories up out of smoke-shapes,
whilst you laugh and call me gentle names.
And I shudder with momentum,
as I briefly close my contented eyes
to nail this memory into my fit-to-burst soul.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer who deals in the Lowlife, Outsider, and Outlaw genres.  He wrote his first poem as a teenager following his release from the (Infamous) Borstal ‘HMP Portland’, and he has been creating Literary Terrorism ever since. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.