Silver My flushed, older twin reveals himself, like a conjurer, from behind a veil of nothingness. Greyer – silvery – my future self. I stare toward him and utter, half composed, half shaking. I ask silver me how we feel these few decades on. He beams a sunlight smile. We are happy. Content. We have smiled a million smiles. This surreal avenue to future memories, tells of creaking bridges – sighing – groaning. Yet Silver heartens me as he speaks of pride and joy to come. He sings approval. I reply with glistening relief. He reveals towering trophy moments. Silver, smiles with empathy. He stamps lucid authority, yet I feel loose and safe I quiz him further. He oozes words of health and wealth to soon embrace me, like a prodigal son. He tells of deeds and compassion toward city nomads – homeless. Not soulless. Silver neither daunts or haunts me. Two old friends stealing a chance to chat. Encouraging – not disparaging. He plays images of a wife and child – beyond my comprehension. I shoot a smile in reply. He booms of books, penned between us. This is a conversation of contentment – of accomplishment. As Silver fades. I am ecstatic – full of hope.
Paul Attwell lives in Richmond, London, with his partner Alis, and Pudsey the cat. Paul’s experiences of depression and ADHD help shape his work. The pamphlet, Blade is available from Wrong Rooster Publishing at https://www.wrongroosterpublishing.com/
Amethyst Review 