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A Cup of Rum Tea


The house is
so spare, so Zen.
Snowing
at twilight,
the flakes plump
and soft.

Gwen is here,
once more.

We have been
drinking
not just tea, but
dark, rum tea;
so quirky,
for us.

She pushed her
chair aside,
and left.

I thought,
she is walking
--how wonderful—
on a journey
around the
pond.

Her hat
and coat
lay abandoned.