Afternoon Tea
I have spent too long
in a world of coffee mugs;
I am ready to return
to teacups:
delicate china teacups,
light as whispers,
fragile as our secret dreams;
cups filled with music,
the song of silver spoons.
Coffee mugs swagger
and speak in boastful tones
of deals made and checklists scored,
of long dark nights
of cigarettes and crumpled papers.
Give me instead
a vellum sheet of poetry,
a thimble of sherry,
a tiered plate of artful sandwiches
and
a perfect strawberry,
clothed in chocolate,
a cup of amber tea.
No comments:
Post a Comment