February 9, 2013

Earl & Afternoon

Fragile hard, tensile thin,
from saucer base to fractured rim.
Yours, is porcelain bone white skin.
Mine, is fire pearled scar, and blackened char.
Steel, hammered-handle-hues.

You were made with tender care,
no glaze or turn was to spare.
I was cast from poured out flame.
But both you and I are quite the same.
Made diverse, in complement,
Spout of my spout, pantry sent. 

In this steam spun celestial cloud,
a serenade is sung aloud.
A railway stop metallic tone.
My whistle sounds for you alone.

Darling! won't you steep for me?

Oh Horror, that we may not meet,
if not for (High-Tea) and Company.


1 comment: