Afternoon Tea Chat With an Old Friend

On her shoulder the burden of the despised

When death strolls in for tea under the big tree shade we sit old friends in the airy silence of late afternoons nodding away at each other with not much to argue about.

I see how lonely and frail how much her wide travels weary her and how much she deserves the company of folks she scares.

On her shoulders the burdens of the despised and in the air the echoes of her wise speeches and in our ears the soothing morals of her many crazy adventures,

before her warm handshakes turn to a wintry cold grip to gain the firm attention of those in the departure lounge.

But she needs the assurance that none bears her grudges for the thankless job she does sneaking in like a petty thief on those, she’s wont to escort.

Your tea gets cold my friend, I say to her. She sighs and sips then says, You know how much I need it warm To deal with the cold hearts I’ve to hug.

OU022022