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!