The Conversationalists

There is small comfort in that fragile peace
that rests uneasy when we sit and talk
around the countless things both needing said
and those much better left unshared.

Between the spider and the web of lies
that catches us like aspic still unset,
we struggle both to stir and stay unseen;
our efforts pointless, in the end.

There is a comfort in our meeting,
for a moment, brief and fleeting;
as we linger here together
shadows lengthen on that sunshine.

Let our eyes flash subtle innuendo
in the darkness that descends,
and the simple conversation
lapse into a welcomed silence.

So when the brave encounter finds its end,
we smile and fake a sorrow to depart
until the caravan slips out of sight
and finally feel allowed to laugh out loud.

4 JUN 2015

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