My Cup of Tea
I might not be everybody’s cup of tea,
I don’t blow back your hair or float your boat.
I might be the poet you pass on by,
too weird and virtual, too unexpected and “what”?
You see, I really can make few apologies,
I came this way, saw some things, now here I am.
I don’t like to wander and meander aimlessly
When my poem says, “We’re done here,” I sign my name.
I do enjoy a smorgasbord, of poetic styles,
and I’ll taste just about anything set out on the cloth.
Like savoring a well prepared canapé, I could be enticed
to make a main course out of your every word.
Sometimes, and it’s always such a pleasure, when it comes
I’ll find a cafe that serves it just how I like,
a mix of tastes and presentations, from erudite to light.
But I’m still looking for a desert, that goes just right,…
with my cup of tea.
February 12, 2019