Fy Annwyl [Drop-Dead Gorgeous Interruptions]

I am normally so careful with paperwork
… except whenever She’s around…
I got blim-burns all down the 4th stanza
of the ‘Geraint Son Of Erbin’ poem
from the ‘Black Book Of Carmarthen’
… and I exclaimed, frustrated
“For Christ Sake, Woman…
You’re Driving Me Demented
… with your Intoxicating Beauty!”
I instantly regretted reacting, but, alas.
“Read it aloud in your Welsh Accent
… and I’ll leave you in peace.” she lied.
I stole the candle flame with fingers
… and distracted by pointing out
the subtle warm red of the coming sunrise
cresting the bottom of the attic window…
before playfully sidestepping her embrace
… and leaping for the Arena of our Bed.

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.