Tea party at five

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