Lay down the sword of long-nursed grievances,
the keen-edged dagger of resentment, too.
And that old blunderbuss, charged with the shot
of all my ancient misdemeanours; toss
it aside. Now empty out your pockets:
two knuckle-dusters, marked “I told you so”
and “all the things you do that drive me mad”.
You won’t be needing those.
I’ll do the same.
There. So now, disarmed, we face each other
and – unthinkably – a future free from
futile battles neither of us wins.
Write down the date and time:
from noon this day, our armistice begins.