He arrives late...
And while he waits,
Reads the writing
On the wall...
Another heartfelt rhyme,
That I can't recall
Then, from that wall,
He chooses a table
Not mine, of course
Well...that would be a fable!
But salt and pepper
Instigate a move
As he glides his chair
From across the room
Behave...behave
Don't give it away
Quiet now...no clues
Give the man some space
And then the gauntlet
Hits the floor
Almost too eager
I'm diving for
A scrap from his plate;
A crumb he let fall
But this is no time
For me to play ball
The idle conversation
And the hints, quite subtle
The "weakness of a man",
And my ignorant rebuttal
He made his point,
Slightly over my head
To lure me in,
Or to warn me, instead?
For his honesty, must mean something
And inside, my growing fascination
With what could be nothing...
Or a plot for assasination
I find I am leary
Of his truthful admission
For, I don't know if I've been admonished
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Halloween is Right around the corner.. .
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Viva la inspiration. Excellant words, my sister...Write on.... 
