Fiction by Colette Maxfield

Fiction

You disliked me quite spontaneously after that

Developed quite a flair

It didn’t matter if I twisted this way or that

You were there

Conducting 

This sonata that

You were undemonstrable 

Hidden in your own 

Tailcoat

Like a souvenir

In your own shop

Tat

Leaving only your words

Scattered

Quite coolly