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Earl Grey



Frail bones and pale blue pipeline
Under pink crepe paper skin
Sit watch over steeping tea

Two flawlessly painted cups
Peonies on bone china
Stains mark the hairline fractures

Bergamot and cold cream smells
Swell amid the odors of
Cinnamon and cigarettes

Glassy eyes with swirls and clouds
Make their way around the room
Watching the kettle for steam

And the window for warblers
Then settle down on my eyes
A watched kettle never boils

You say in habitual hush
Low laughter boils over and
Woody words drop from our mouths
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Submitted on May 01, 2011

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    "Earl Grey" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 13 Aug. 2022. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/70115/earl-grey>.

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