Pink clouds
get out of my way
I must go, this is
the day!
Silk or lace?
What shade?
Smart hat, pink or
lilac?
It must be soft
as the words we must
speak
as the cotton-candy
sky
as the solemnity of
the blooms
The sweet scented
petals
caressing soft
as feathery touch on
the ear lobe
Taffeta on the table
ancient thin
porcelain cups
hand painted blue,
glazed in history
There will be
delicate little poetry
made of sugar and
flower
fruits of delights
on crystal towers
Silver reflecting
the glorious afternoon
Little bits of hair
escaping the golden pin
At five o’clock
I will be having tea
with the queen
she will smile at my
awkward courtesy
Her best Mona Lisa
smile
and I will gaze into
her eyes
as if gazing the
stars
The tea pot will be
boiling then
and I will steam
on the mystery of
the sphinx
Will it be
deciphered?
Or will she devour
me?
Poise, softness,
grace
on glass shoes
fly or break
tic tac
and I will keep the
moment
on the iron chain of
the memories
at the end I will
complement her china
she will tell me I
can keep it
and when I bow to
say good bye
she will be gone
and I will start to
weep
and break the cups,
the teapot, the plate
and before I leave
the gate
I shall have yet a
new mosaic
To Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth II on her 90th Birthday
