15 May 2012
She swirls about in my teapot,
A lady in a teacup,
Elegant nobility dancing with a lemon,
And I wonder
If I looked over my shoulder
Would she be there,
With her peacock feather in her hair?
Not to be confused with the other girl
With blood stains on her collar.
Heavens no.
Would the aromatic steam
Rising from my hand,
Bergamot and citrus peel,
Conjur her, like some mystical genie
From Arabian Nights?
Though, now Arabian Mornings
The warm sun reminds me,
Kissing bluebell heads
And embracing sweetpea arms
Decorated by plumes of foliage
In their beautiful cloaks and bonnets,
As often she would be,
Strolling through magnificent gardens,
The English nymph in my teacup.
My Sunrise Lady • Opuss № I