An Invitation

There will be tea, she said, and scones,
(And smiled demurely) come alone.
Will there be musicians too? A few.
No physicians, no large guests, just
The rest, nibbling on their scones
And sipping tea, alone. Spell out
Loneliness with a music, an exotic brew, the key
To all these tables and your tepid tea. Keep
The windows shut against the cold
Inside your bones, and scold the scones
In sluggish tea; dream about bees
Hanging from drapes or close the shades
And leave the plastic birds under
The potted trees. Stir in honey
Or sugar-cubes (with added grace)
If you like. Look out the shaded windows and laugh,
This is the life. Guests will come
And guests will go, and shut the door with a low
Goodbye. Try to take it slow, old
As you are; rest your feet on the hassock,
Fold your limbs, and grin. These are all my thoughts:
I like you a lot, and I hope you win, but the leaves
Are very thin this time of year; be of good cheer.