Flowers on Sunday with Tea

I did a few little things for you today.  Braved the yuppies to buy pumpernickel at Whole Foods.  Ordered some socks for decadent feet (not mine, but someone you would like, who stands all day at work.)  Made tea after dinner, because you can’t start talking without tea.  Coffee is fine for thinking and doing.  But the teapot pours forth amber poetry by the mugful, biting your tongue with tannins, leaving traces of baked sugar behind.  If you want to talk until long after midnight, it’s tea you need.

Now I know why I’ve been craving tea in the morning.  You’re here for a few days, aren’t you?  Oh boy, I miss you plenty – but you know that’s hard for me to show.  So much of me is modeled on the person I thought you were, that sometimes it’s like you’ve never really gone.  Unless I think about it.

We’re in the middle of a really bad storm, and also – there are zombies.  Getting through it – I know you’d say – that’s the easy part.  It’s the after when I could use you, so please – hang around, ok?  Because after all this, it’s us who will have to be the solid ones.  And I really don’t know how to do that.

The pumpernickel was good – dense and chewy, spread thick with butter.  Apple slices and cheese, too, for dessert.  But drinking tea with you, that was the best. I was going to ask for your intercession, but there’s only one thing I really want. Hang around a little while longer, will you?

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