High Tea

High tea with Miss.E.
philosophy, late afternoon
not one religion
left unturned,
not one lover
left unremembered.
Rain on window pane
barely heard
as the bones of life
are picked quite clean.

Art brought down
from its ivory tower
and passed around
like buttered scones,
science with the marzipan
politics on crumpets.
Darjeeling loose leaf
and some answers,
while the rain
softly purrs.