Flowers for the Meeting
The chairwoman, glamorous
in purple with military buttons,
has wings of buttermilk dahlias.
On the mantle shelf, a hat
of baby pink roses, three feet wide, waits
for her perfect vase of brown hair.
Her spectacles on the tip
of her nose, she peers
to take in the assembled men,
each one overwhelmed by the need
to share their wisdom,
their accumulated knowledge,
their opinions and those stolen
from others, more interesting.
A class of schoolboys, hands raised,
jittering to impress.
Then it’s over,
the coffee drunk,
the biscuits passed, chewed, swallowed.
She rises,
balances her rose hat,
ripples her dahlia wings.
She flys
through empty windows.
Rowena Warwick lives in Oxfordshire with her husband, her westie and her sons. When not writing she works for the health service.