I sit; my eyes greedily scan the room.
I see gesticulation, animation.
Practised predators search for prey,
Oiled by potions, bought today
From stores that sell such dreams.
In the corner, bathed in insecurity,
Crouches failure.
Lacking guile, to fake the smile
That brings such rich reward.
For him, tonight, no body to entwine.
My nose takes in sweet perfumes
Experiments supply.
The sweetest smell cannot foretell,
What's truth, and what is lie.
But covers fetid feelings, if only for a spell.
My ears sift conversations, exaggerations,
Often, pointless lies.
The absence of veracity,
No invite.....No surprise.
These gatherings are homes to fools, no places for the wise.
I touch the leather chair, on which I perch
I search, for signs of innocence.
A futile quest.
All my senses scream for rest,
So no more time, will I invest.
I leave the room unnoticed.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Owain Glyn
