“I brew a pot each morning
And drink it all day long,” she said.

“Would you like some?”
His smile, a sly revelation of intent.

“Tea, I mean. Not me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
She read him like a slutty novel.
“I see what’s in your eyes.”

Blue, with hints of pine and gold dust.

“Milk? Or lemon, like a true Brit?
I like mine with cream and honey.
Hot, blonde, and sweet; Just like my men.”

Things were getting interesting. He smoothed
For a dainty cup among the flowers,
Girding his full attention to her immodesty.

“So…?” she smiled as she poured from a cabbage pot
Into a strawberry rimmed in gold.
“What’s on your agenda today?”