Something They Could Do

Something They Could Do

Of arguments
Oh bat and ball of sharp retorts
Yet not to catch one word
Beyond the urge to throw one back
Until like sparring halves
Whose rhetoric grown stale
They retire of separate rooms
Behind slam-shut doors
In solitary huff to pace the floor

Reason stifled
Stunned by sharp despairs and pains
Imploded, nested silent now
Yet writhing in the heart
As angry ghosts within the walls
Whose anger burns not to assuage

Disagreements
As Gordian knots may seem
A life not worth one bent tin coin
Each who wouldn’t listen to the other
Staunchly so impaled on pride

Who first to take that step?
Across that ragged fringe of discord
To seek some path to good repair

And slowly in the new days rise
He might steal the cornflower blue from morning sky
Hold it high, compare it to her topaz eyes
Wake her with some coffee
Retrace the present from the past
Remember how they came to love each other
Offer each their regrets upon a kiss
That was something they could do

Harlequin Writes (Mar 2012)