It starts – as it always does - with fairy steps
silver dust, kicked up in sparkles,
as they pass in a corridor,
you-again, raised eyebrows,
coffee at the same time,
more or less, give or take a heartbeat.
Magical fairy steps
tiptoe-trip towards some future,
as they lunch, make unremarkable exchanges
her face tight with alertness,
slight uncertainty.
With the team day out,
come quickening fairy steps to the dinner
and imperative seats them
face to face, with wine and nerves on fire,
tension rising, like scalding steam.
Group-loud jokes fill the bar, connections
snip-snap into place across the team until
much later, quieter, two of them sit,
still, and patches of silvery glitter
settle round their dress-down shoes
in glowing moonlight pools
And he pauses, leans in,
takes a breath that holds her scent
and knows that, in a moment, he will take
a giant stride, towards or away.
This was placed second in a local poetry competition.
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