Afternoon Tea

At 2pm precisely I took my favorite seat, an elegant retreat
inside the now defunct St. John's Museum

The gilt-framed picture set before my eyes was one of simple
beauty
dutied colors light and shadows dark wipe away the rushing riot of the
world

Long-necked swans swim in motions fluid grace, paddling apace
near the tidy thatched-roof cottage built beside the ever-flowing
stream

The sidewall chimney's firmly grounded in the fertile earth
as the watermill's splashing mirth moves the grinding-wheel round and
round

The stoneworked walls are being climbed by pale-green ivy leaves
Handsome shadetree oaks provide the evening's twilight canopy

My artistic reverie is rudely interupted by the English
gentleman,
His knowing smile pans longingly, flashed perfection in his pearly
teeth

He loudly reminiscences about his favorite time of day, madly
raving
bravely dedicated, ecstasy pouring forth, 'Afternoon's Ceremonial
Tea'

He well remembers warm desire, invigorating flavors strongly rich
itching to drink fresh hot cups of Gold Rush Assam Tea

Savoring every mouthfull of Cook's Stem Ginger biscuits
thickly slathered with the best; sliced marmalade laced with
whiskey

He transports my weary traveler's heart and we walk the cobbled
pathway

Towards the blazing paneglassed homefront, window's candleglow