The Idea-smithy

She picks a gob of mud and aims carefully
Splatch! It spatters down his clean (too clean she thinks) face
Then she sits back to sip her drink
But it makes her choke
Arsenic!
…she thinks in panic
And so the loquacious one is silenced
But it wasn’t fair play!!
Are her final unspoken words

If you must start the conversation,
I will be the one to end it.
If the conversations end whenever you want them to,
I’ll decide when and whether they should start again.
A conversation between equals deserves balance everywhere.