Dead five years this coming springhe still remembers tea
grinding acrid leaves in pots
just like he showed to me
Steeped with the hours upon the rim
of coal-fired Aga stove,
a brew to stand your spoon up in
and watch it soon dissolve.
Is that sound a burglar rattling
the hinges on the door?
Or the ghost of Uncle Frederick
making tea at four?
12 comments:
Eeeks. Not my favourite cup of tea...
That type of brew could wake up the dead.
Loved it!
Indeed it could - and does!
Thanky you both :)
'wake up the dead' - very good Spacedlaw!
I can't do that kind of tea either - too strong makes my tummy heart. But plain and hot - yum!
I can't drink it strong, either.
just how i love my tea- very good.
Sound and substance meld well in this rhyming piece. I enjoyed reading it over and over. ;) Same feedback for "No 33, Jeeves" which is a fun read.
Found my way here via Breathing Poetry. Glad I did. Cheers.
to meet you. Thank you for the lovely comments :)
Thank goodness I don't drink tea!
Few teas are as strong as that!
Oh another one to make me laugh. You've gone all macabre, love it. The tea sounds ghastly though, not mine at all (as you know).
Nor mine! I like my tea light!
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