Iíve enticed you into town.
Pushing the boat out,
youíve agreed to coffee and cake.
You pick up crumbs on your fork,
play with them. Sitting in silence,
I catch the fragile smile,
all that will pass your lips.
Tomorrow youíll stay in your room again,
centre of your ever-shrinking world,
and draw me closer to the undertow.
If you have any
thoughts on this poem, Ann Gibson would be pleased to hear them.