Flourish

Wafting by on the breeze,

you are sly like a flying fish.

It is a perfect moment,

for a while.

Then bliss slips down the drain,

ushered along by your wry analysis.

Self-pleased and contagiously disdainful,

you have dared to scrawl trivial observation

across my intricate life. If to you the design
appears small, it is only because

you have grown distant

and grossly swollen

with the gloating distraction

of your superbly travelled self.

Jennifer Burnside