i tip my hat to the hatter and-
a storm pours down from the rim
the daffodils we planted round the table
crawled up our arms and peered into our teacups
i wondered why the sky was so silent so i-
threw milky ways of glitter into it's heart and-
oh! did it come crashing down to cover us in stars.
'that's a lot of glitter'
i stir light into my tea and hush him with a wave of my hand
'it's your stars'
the hatter seems lost and-
i walk around him to drape the silence that comes with night over his shoulders
winds of the far north blew their flutes and-
the trickling of time's tea lilted along to it
'do you hear it?'
he paints a feathered laugh onto the brim of my hat
and threads gentle melancholy into the seam.
'who're they singing for, darling?'
i hum bluebirds and their wings pour me a cup of tea
'why for you, of course'
the wind laughs and ruffles his hair
kissing him with lips of cold and wintery breath
suprise colors his eyes and he huffs delight
'i've never had anybody sing for me before'
'there's always someone singing for you,
you just can't hear it'
and we sprinkle poppy petals over our laps and-
listen to the wind sing
for those who haven't caught the song yet in their heart-
the hatter clinks the teapot and smiles
it's a shy one and the trees swoon above us as-
i curl my fingers around the teacup and-
the blossoms shower the table in silken scents
and we drink tea to the melodies of the wind.