My Old Nemesis

My old nemesis

By

James Bredin

Met my aged nemesis at a pensioners meeting today,
Hatred times ten; hidden emotions still seething away,
Poetic justice as he, in pain, bent over his walker, sore,
He won old battles long ago but now may have lost the war.

Our eyes met for a micro second as he scanned the hall,
Remembered his rank arrogance when our backs were to the wall,
He knew and I knew that the cards had long since changed,
The urge to do or say something sarcastic could be arranged.

But the urge to demonstrate my revenge had to be curbed,
He would win the game of life if I showed I was disturbed,
Because in life, like chess, certain system rules have to be obeyed,
Both the winners and the loosers know who lost when they played.

I just hope he knew the hatred and detestation that filled the air,
As he left early, quickly, quietly, pushed his walker in despair,
A wounded opponent in the game of life from long ago,
No welcome at the pensioners meeting on a quid pro quo.

Saturday, January 20, 2007