For the Love of

I swear upon my mother’s grave
I only speak the truth:
You ask, Where is your piece of cake?
I say, There’s cake? Forsooth!
I just came in and just sat down
With just this tray of tea.
There’s camomile and peppermint
And even oolong, see?
You look at me a bit askance
But sit down anyway,
And then quite casually remark
A ghost would like her tray.

7 thoughts on “For the Love of

  1. rich words mate. this is artfully intriguing.

    1. Hehe just felt like having a little fun. 🙂

  2. Forsooth? Methinks thou tarry’st with our daliances, marry.

    1. Me thinks, you thinks, we all thinks with our shrinks.

  3. Clever and put a smile on my face! 🙂

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