That summer in the garden
we picked lemons for our tea,
and sliced the half-moon slivers
into dainty flowered cups,
white tablecloth and silver spoons,
with Max the dog and two black cats,
we sat beneath the branches
and sipped our afternoons,
now you and Max and two black cats
have melted into timelessness,
and I am left to savour
sweet bitterness of what remains,
idyllic days are over,
and lemon tea has lost
a little of its zest.
‘Lemon Tea’
