The Biscuit Treaty
The biscuit treaty
Ranting is what we do best
He thinks he’s right, but I am
With angry jibes we begin
Snippets of lashed tongue
Whip their way across the room
Pulling on his trigger
Fired bullets retaliate
Injured, still undefeated
I ponder my position
Another attack invoked
Flicker of realisation
Is there a need to endure
Realising stamina’s gone
The point is simply advised
On both sides for that matter
Diplomacy now required
But who will raise the white flag
Both pause, anticipating
His kettle letting off steam
He pours, only for himself
Then sits, cup in hand, silent
Reaching for a happy end
A tin armed with biscuits
I open with a gesture
He smiles, not looking over
Relieved, I wave the tin
His favourite, a done deal!
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