A Purposeful Witch

Everyone else here stepped around
the Belly Dancers
in a wide, appreciative arc
… you, meanwhile,
swaggered through the centre
of their swishing-and-swaying,
with a mischievous fluid gait
and schoolboy grin upon chops.
I want pillarbox red kisses
as hors d’oeuvres…
and better wine than I deserve
… before I even start listening
to your calls to ‘behave myself’.
I spent last night painting
the ceiling of her boudoir
with mock insults and swearing
… I despise moonless skies,
and adore stale perfume embraces.
“Of course I love you” I lied
and now we’re both in trouble
… we’re all merely marbles
to the gods… but some of us
have learnt to tilt and bend
the changing pathway of motion.
When I eventually sold my Soul
I did it for Wishing Well pennies
… witch besides being wet,
were soaked in the dreams,
hopes and desires… foolishly
finger-cast away by naive people.

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.