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