Sympathy in Teacups
Don’t Look for sympathy in teacups for there is none to find. Only the dregs of life’s disappointments and deep indignities.
Tea Leaves reading frustration for those seeking absolution.
Teacups shattered become teardrops racing down windowpane faces.
A pool of sorrows gathered at foots edge. Looking beyond the harbor waiting for the lighthouse to come ashore. Feet take root yielding blossoms at hand.
Musicians tune up. Our Maestro raises his glass in toast. Commence the Chamber music. Tomorrow the Garden Party begins again. What was broken now needs be made whole.