The Teetotaler
In Ordinary Cups
The blades of winter grind into the ice
like blood on a bitten lip
two lovers spin and twirl
The days pass from teacup to teacup
in the peaceful silence of a solitary nest.
From gentle easy sunrise through sheer white
to the subtle fall of accordion night.
The echoes of childish laughter tremble
across the cracked surface of plaster walls.
Random squeaks in oaken floors return
the footfall of father, coming and going.
Long lost cat's paw prints impress carpet
dragons from Shanghai with ghostly ease,
and every loved and loving one returns
in peace, to rest beneath the tapping fingertips
upon a porcelain cup of tea from China.
11/9/10
Re-formed for Roy the Verse BELOW
The Teetotaler
The blades of winter grind into the ice, flirting
with the rosy cheek of puppy love, snow-crusted mittens
cling, like chapped skin on bitten lips; scarfs twirl; they spin.
As steam rises from the cup, reminisce, the first kiss,
across swamp-grass hummocks, rotten ice, lace tripping
with the rosy cheek of puppy love; snow crusted mittens
cling. Black hair, fair skin, Irish-eyed, he cajoles a grin.
In the steam, not the leaves, she remembers him
across swamp-grass hummocks, rotten ice, lace tripping;
they spin. Assam seeps in porcelain, another cup
she pours. In an empty nest the cup clinks saucer,
in the steam, not the leaves, she remembers him.
From sunrise through fall of white, she sees the mist
falling accordion-like into chinks of memory.
She pours. In an empty nest, the cup clinks saucer.
The recollections of youthful laughter cut, tremble,
across the cracked surfaces of her mind's walls
falling accordion-like into chinks of memory.
Random squeaks in the oaken floors recall returns,
these images mist swirl from the tea-of family,
across the cracked surfaces of her mind's walls.
A long lost cat walks shrouded through silent the scene
in peace, they rest beneath her tapping fingertips
these images mist-swirl from the tea-of family,
Every loved and loving one returns mist-born
within a porcelain cup of tea from China;
in peace, they rest beneath her tapping fingertips.
3/21/15
Copyright ©
Debbie Guzzi
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