Two for Tea

Tea, Callie and Me
a fragile hour each year
Callie visits me for Tea
just 10 years old now,
i want her to look away from my
eyes
as she cautiously pours from
antique floral teapot
to Chintz floral cups.

so she’ll remember, not me
but The Tea.
when she’s sketching in her journal
and posting in her blog
if such an electronic world still whirls.

but for now we are like unto
eons of women before us
sipping tea at the pine table
talking about dogs named Charlie

the rest of the world disappears
during Tea with Callie and me.

she leaves Tea
reluctantly
for our hour passed
her brick home 300 miles from mine.

a vision of me
vivacious and vibrant.
Cemented into her Memory.

She slides away in the back of the red sedan.
i turn my face,
so she will not see
two for tea
tear
. . stains on concrete.

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