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Tea with Lemon

Sitting in a stuffy chair
I sip my cup of melancholy tea,
smile and speak my sweet replies,
dream between in quiet sighs
of winding streets at dusk,
of fog and lights contained.

Tea with lemon, tea with silence.
then, a cup and saucer rattle
calls back her distant face.
Another word of subtle grace
through thinly parted lips and tea,
again, that lemon taste.

Pictures crowded on the wall.
"Remember ?"
"Yes, and they should be dusted."
Tea with bits of sunlight through the shade,
that pungent lemon taste
of fog and silence without haste.

Mark Clement 11/22/98