The Final Round

Sitting in the hotel foyer for safety,
we talk and talk and talk;
endlessly going over the same old ground;
round and round in circles.

We've been there since nine am.
At three in the afternoon, exhausted,
you fall asleep, leaving me hoping,
believing, we've reached a way forward.

We're in a Marriot, a nice one,
on a golf course, and we've had
morning coffee and lunch, sitting
safely in the foyer.

Time now, when you wake, to go home,
and try to start again (again):
So many new beginnings.
Time now to go home.

This is the last negotiation. We don't
know it yet, but this is the last round
either of us will have the stomach for.
Next step an ending.

I order tea, while you sleep upright,
in the striped wing chair,
and flick through the complimentary paper.
I'll wake you up soon.

I'm exhausted too, and carefully
fold away my lists of issues
back into my bag.
So many issues.

The hotel foyer's safe.
We've both been civilised,
behaved appropriately here,
in the public eye.

I ask for the bill, and fold the paper,
and shake you gently awake,
and we gather ourselves together
for our last new start.


Sent from my iPhone