roses, piping scones fresh from the oven,
crisped just so, presented on a gleaming silver
tray with doilies, crystal, still-dewy flowers on
each linen-covered table, it's the kind of place
that drains testosterone from any man who
dares to enter, florals, lace and lavender, fragrant
and frou-frou escape from ordinary ugliness and
modern lines, explosion of extravagance and
beauty just for beauty's sake. Old World
frippery with jam and cream and butter pressed
into a pretty mold. It's been too long since
I've been dressed to the nines, smiling, chatting,
with another woman in a tea room, sipping heaven,
high on estrogen and calories, indulging in
the sort of girl-talk only needed in infrequent doses.
Too much sugar is unwise, but not enough makes
one forget the finer things for which the
fairer sex is famous, rightly so.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014
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