Waving his arms merrily
The Hatter
So graciously
Conducts his parched companions
About white cups and blue cups
Ceramic vessels, cracked and stained
For each to clasp a boiling brew
He's tossing saucers and kettles
And giggling gleefully
As we make minuscule whirlpools
With little silver spoons
And watch the leaves swirl about
In erratic rotations
In erratic rotations
In puddles of diviners fluid
Pleasant aromas ascend
From the murky potion
Cradled between my palms
My cold face nuzzled
Caressed by warm siren's hands
Drawn slowly downward
Inhaling her sweet song
I part my lips to meet her own
But the dancing bastard has no heart
Twirling about the tabletop
Smashing fine china and trampling tarts
The enchantment is broken
"Clean cup!"
"Clean cup!"
Contentment
Batted from my grasp
"Clean cup!", he shouts
"Clean cup!"
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