The sunlight was warm and pouring
from the teapot; pale and golden.
The scudding clouds windswept and clotted
Puffs of creamy white broken free
from the scones and jam of sweet sunsets.
Layer cakes of memories, sweet and coloured
Eaten with a pleasure pain of overindulgence.
Butter love slippery in the mind
but dusted off like icing sugar and coconut
Crisp and clogging with the perfumed air of flowerbeds.
And the kiss of that brief moment of freedom
Crumbs from the plate and drips from the pot
lingers still like icing on the lips.