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White Lies
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Dawns a courtroom closing in on midday, and a cheery sun
uncovering its place being less demanding--a sage who
dons sufficiently in her vocation that imparts one who bears
a respectable position, and one of a high office--so without
delay, the judge withdraws to his chambers for consultations
with the defense attorney and prosecutor, et al., she then
advances towards the lone defendant from her private seat
in the gallery--an officer of the court, immediately takes
notice of her movements and in anticipation presented her
with a chair for her pleasure--the defendant who sees her,
respectfully stands, whereto, she politely informs him that
he may remain seated and air him in a one-sided
conversation being the soul speaker, and he as the soul
listener. Albeit, exceptions to that disclosure evolved at the
end as there is cause for the conversation to become ironic.
*The opener of My Short Story: White Lies, in two parts; I'm
afeared of old habits unchanged as alit surface, amid dim, and
aligned depth of mired cliché, sways a gavel 'ere ...
Copyright ©
Hilo Poet
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