Today everything is done properly.
The milk is in a jug edged with flowers,
a little bit of sugar is in my mug,
part of a china set in which all differ-
plums and pears, blackberries and grapes.
Individuality is expressed.
The teapot is eccentric, with a spout
the like of which I’ve never seen before.
A long time ago a chunk broke off the rim
and the lid settles deep within.
A happy pot it is to be so loved-
as valuable as a worn out cat.
An ancient tray completes the set that brings
the matchless delight of companionable tea.