The Teacup Tempest

by The Nonsense Chronicler Pink Flamingo


I boiled the moon in a kettle of brass,  

With a whisper of thunder and a pinch of sass.  

The teabag danced like a drowsy gazelle,  

While the sugar cubes sang of a caramel spell.


I stirred with a wand made of celery root,  

And added a sock for a hint of galoot.  

The steam rose up in a spiral of dreams,  

Smelling faintly of pickles and tambourine screams.


The cup was a hat from a duchess’s toe,  

The saucer a frisbee last seen in Bordeaux.  

I sipped with a slurp and a hiccup of grace,  

Then rode a hot biscuit to outermost space.


Oh tea, thou tempest in porcelain guise,  

You tickle my brain and befuddle my eyes.  

So next time you brew, don’t settle for bland

Invite a flamingo, and stir with your hand.




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