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The Priceless Tea Drinker

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Poetic Form: Rhyme
Inspired: 2024 January 20
Image: N/A

*"A tribute to "Pops" (Joe), (04/23/31-01/20/24) though what pans below mirrored life in the States for me, not Pops, but for two years at The Home before he passed, I'd drank tea cause he's unable to have strong or spicy etc. Once a month, though the last few months I drank alone. It was something that he shared, for you Pops." ... by Poet

          'Twas a relatively crispiness in the clambering yawn,
          a consortium of sorts setting up right across the lawn,
          as duskiness drew up her covers relinquishing the day,
          embossed intricately recently polished grace silver tray,
          atop bears a quaint setting of Old Country Royal Alberts,

ah, yes, tea cups, dually statured and ushering desserts,
if you would please pour just a cup for me, for as you can see,
my 'friend's asleep at the wheel, engine's off, eve doesn't agree,

          a host to vividness terms of circumstance circulated,
          guesswork nature that entertains the uncoordinated,
          the fumbling hands placed to the left or right be it a catchphrase,
          a righteous smile of approval amicably gifts it weighs,

astir Pekoe, instants an intrusive bay fronts pleasantries,
prompts us of our intimacy adds value to home's sea breeze,
a nose full of redolent tea defines memories of us,
of times he drove us to school, then to doctors, still drives the bus,

          a nodding gesture non flirtatious enthusiasm rises,
          occasions an exceeding specialized intrigue comprises,

be a tea for two, Broadway Avenue, a smothered venue,
food cart with mixed tarts, lined signs of sweet kinds, beseeches of you,
I and my friend, who sleeps now and then, had two cups of Pekoe,
tea for my friend, it's not Pekoe, health-bot boy, it's Almond Joy,
'tis a pleasure, airs like a loon, trends sans measure, depth crescent moon,
he won't mind, he's sleeping--are you sure, yes, we're having friends soon,
they're here, ambulance? send them here--no rush, their skills aren't needed.

He felt his life poor--driving, "Pops, we made it--you succeeded."

Copyright © Hilo Poet | Year Posted 2024

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